Merry Christmas Stories by Jeff R. Spalsbury

Author:Jeff R. Spalsbury [Jeff R. Spalsbury]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: -
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2015-10-20T04:00:00+00:00

THIS IS A GOOD DAY TO DIE

Khwaja Fillaby’s body crashed in front of the snow bank. He spit the snow from his mouth and twisted around to a sitting position. Snow stuck to his face, but he didn’t bother brushing it off.

The clouds cast moving shadows across the valley spread out below him like a gigantic mural. “This is a good place to die.” The arctic air turned his mournful whisper into a white wisp. “A good day to die. Merry Christmas, world. Merry Christmas, Dominique.” He clasped his hands together, closed his eyes and leaned back against the snow bank.

“You’re not going to clutter up my landscape by dying up here, are you?”

Khwaja opened his eyes and blinked into the light. A tall man in a park ranger uniform stood in front of him, leaning on a stout, wooden staff. The sun shone directly behind the ranger, and the light flashed and faded as the man moved slightly one way and then the other. Khwaja shaded his eyes and said, “It’s a good day to die.”

“Christmas? Christmas Day is a good day to die? You jest.”

“No, I’m not. I’m serious.”

“Well, I’ll have none of it. Why do you want to die today anyway? Why not tomorrow?”

“Might change my mind tomorrow.”

“Change your mind today. I hate having dead bodies all over my landscape.”

“Won’t be bodies. There’ll only be one dead body, mine.”

“Ha! That’s what you know. There’s a woman farther up the trail doing the same thing.”

“What?”

“Dying. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but––.”

“But! There’s no room for buts. Are you dying or not?”

“Yes. I’m dying.”

“All right, then. Why? For some woman, I suppose?”

“Not just some woman, the greatest woman I’ve ever known. The most precious, wonderful––

“Stop. I know all the rest. So what did this precious, wonderful woman do to you that’s so terrible?”

“She died. She got killed in an airplane crash. We had a fight before she left. I never had a chance to say I was wrong. That I was sorry. That I loved her.”

“She isn’t dead.”

“She’s dead. The paper had her picture and everything.”

“She’s not dead. Are you dead?”

“Of course I’m not dead. Not yet, anyway.”

“The paper said you were dead.”

“I was supposed to go on the flight with her. She was an airline stewardess.”

“She didn’t go.”

“She had to go. That was her job.”

“She didn’t go. Did you go?”

“No, I told you I didn’t go.”

“Right, you didn’t go. She didn’t go.”

“Listen, if you’re so smart, why didn’t she go?”

“She was upset about your fight. She went to find you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m an angel.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a park ranger.”

“I’m a very angelic park ranger.”

“You’re getting me upset.”

“Dominique’s upset too.”

“Hey, how do you know her name?”

“Because she’s up the trail, dying. This is where you met, right?”

“Yes. How’d you know that?”

“She told me. Of course, she may already be dead by now.”

“What’d you mean?”

“I told you. She’s dying up the trail. She thinks you died in the plane crash.”

“This is not funny, Mister.

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