The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted: A Psychological Thriller by Andrew E. Kaufman

Author:Andrew E. Kaufman [Kaufman, Andrew E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Suspense & Thrillers
ISBN: 0615569617
Amazon: B006HWXKD4
Publisher: Straightline Press
Published: 2011-12-04T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I never much understood holidays. We didn’t celebrate them, and to me they seemed like a big party I was never invited to, a time when everyone else got to have fun. The decorations, the music—all of it—seemed so foreign to me, accentuating my feelings of inadequacy and loneliness.

“I hate the holidays,” my mother would grumble as we navigated the crowds. “Just a bunch of people getting in my way. Carnal pigs feeding at the trough of material wealth.”

But I wanted to feed there too. I wanted to experience what everyone else did.

It was Christmas Eve. In one of her manic moods, mother suddenly decided she wanted to paint the bathrooms. As in: it couldn’t wait until morning. As in: we needed to go to Wallace’s Discount Mart right that moment.

“And don’t go wandering off to the toy department, either,” she said as we walked through the parking lot. “If you’re not with me when I’m ready to go, I’ll leave you here.”

Inside, colorful blinking lights reflected off silvery tinsel. A fresh piney scent mixed with the smell of hot buttery popcorn, filling the air. Christmas carols played softly in the background while jolly Saint Nick sat front and center, a little girl perched on his lap. Beyond that, even more kids stood along with their parents behind a red velvet rope, waiting for their visit with the white-bearded man in red.

I felt as if I’d landed on Mars.

A sharp jolt snapped me out of it, my mother pulling me by my jacket collar toward the hardware section. I’m pretty sure I was the only kid in the world spending Christmas Eve in the paint department.

“Drop cloth,” she ordered, reading the side of a paint can. I walked down the aisle, then turned the corner in search of one, but something else caught my attention about fifty feet away in the gardening section. A life-sized Santa sat on a big, green tractor, its front end lifting as if taking off in flight. Colorful lights flashed in succession alongside him to give the illusion of forward motion. He had one hand on the wheel, the other waving at me.

I’d never seen anything like it.

As I drew closer, I heard Christmas music, sleigh bells, and Santa’s voice saying, “Ho, ho, ho!” The flashing neon sign below him suddenly came into focus. It read: “The only Deere Santa will need this year!”

I was in awe, couldn’t stop looking at it.

On the other side of the display, I saw a boy about my age who appeared just as thrilled—and for a moment, it was like looking into a mirror. Then I saw his smiling parents beside him, their hands on his shoulder.

And the mirror cracked.

He had them, and I had my mother. I think it was the first time I actually understood how different my world was from that of other children, and how much I was missing out on. I felt an emptiness building inside me, deep and dark. In my child’s mind, I wondered what I had done to deserve such a horrible life.

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