December 2013 Short Story of the Month

LUCIFER’S CHRISTMAS

Sandy Little saw the Sad Man out of the corner of her eye, for a moment, and began to wonder if she’d seen anything more than a shadow. Part of her, deep within, told her to get back inside, but that simply wasn’t an option. Not today. Today, she decided, was a day for curious adventure.
It was Christmas, after all.
The street was busier than she’d expected as she looked around to find the Sad Man in the crowd. It made her happy to see so many people out here. It meant they didn’t have anywhere to be either. Sandy trotted down the street as fast as her seven-year-old body could carry her. Still, she saw no sign of the man she was now beginning to doubt she’d seen in the first place. After all, all that she’d seen of him had been a shadow. But it had been enough.
After turning the corner, doubling back and moving up the street, looking down alleys as she walked… she began to give up. Frustration overtook her. She couldn’t help it. Here she was, alone in the street, and while it was cold, it wasn’t cold enough. And sure, if she strained her eyes she could see snow. Patches here and there. But there still wasn’t enough. Not enough to make it feel like Christmas. And even though she didn’t know why, tears began welling up in her eyes. Sandy fought them, but it was no use.
Then, she heard the voice of an angel. “Girl,” it said, “why are you crying?”
Sandy turned around to see the Sad Man standing behind her in the alley. He was tall and thin, skin so white that in the cold air it seemed to glow. His hair was shining, golden. And his eyes… Sandy was lost in his eyes, weakened by his piercing stare. Beautiful. She struggled to find words. “I… I…”
“Are you lost?” the Sad Man asked.
Sandy shook her head, out of instinct. She didn’t have any real answer. A pause, then she asked, “are you?”
“I don’t know,” the Sad Man sighed. “I’m starting to think I might be.” He looked around for the girl’s parents, but saw no one. “Where are your parents? Shouldn’t you be inside?”
Again, only with more vigor, Sandy shook her head. “Uh-uh. Mommy’s new boyfriend is there. She doesn’t like me there when he’s there.”
The Sad Man knelt beside her. “So she left you out here, all on your own?”
“Nope,” Sandy said, pointing to the small stuffed dog on her keychain. Something that looked like it had been picked up for $1.50 at a gift shop. $1.75 tops.
“I see,” the Sad Man said, standing again. “Aren’t you cold, child?”
“No,” Sandy said. “It’s not cold enough. Before mommy’s new boyfriend, we used to have Christmas at g’amma’s in Maine. But they don’t like him. So now we just stay here.”
“A pity. I heard it’s beautiful up there,” the Sad Man said.
Sandy shrugged. “At least there’s snow.”
The Sad Man turned away, looking up at the sky. It was a cold gray, but that was not entirely out of the ordinary. It wasn’t dark enough to imply snow.
“Do you have any family?” Sandy asked him. “What about your parents?”
The Sad Man pondered the question.
“Are they like my mommy?”
The Sad Man smiled and patted her on the head. “Perhaps,” he said, “perhaps I know something of your abandonment.”
And on that subject, he said nothing more.
Sandy followed his eyes to the sky. “Don’t you think God would make it snow if he could?”
“I’m afraid I’m the wrong person to ask.”
“I think he would. If he could, I mean,” she paused for the moment, “I don’t think he can, though. I don’t think even he knows that much magic.”
The Sad Man smiled at her, a twinkle in his eye. “You are wise beyond your years, child.”
She returned his smile. For a moment. “Why are you wearing a suit?”
The Sad Man looked down at himself. Indeed, he was dressed in a dark suit. A tall, slim figure. She could have sworn she’d seen him before, but didn’t bother to ask.  The Sad Man said, “I’m not really sure.”
“Do you have a meeting?”
“What?” the Sad Man asked.
“My mom only wears a suit when she has a big meeting.”
“No, dear,” he said, “nothing like that.”
Sandy stood beside him, putting her hands in her pockets. The cold didn’t bother her, but standing here, she was starting to notice it.
“Are you sure you have nowhere else to be?” the Sad Man asked. “Didn’t your mother tell you somewhere you could go?”
“To hell,” Sandy muttered.
“What was that?”
“The hotel,” Sandy said, “she probably wanted me to stay in the hotel. But she didn’t say anything. I don’t think she cares.”
The Sad Man smiled. “How thoughtful of your mother. Didn’t she even tell you not to talk to strangers?”
Sandy nodded. “But my g’amma said that ‘a little rebelling never hurt anyone’.” She thought it over, scratching her head. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” the Sad Man said, “just the nonsense of the elderly. You needn’t think too hard about it.”
“Okay,” Sandy said, simply.
The Sad Man breathed a sigh and watched it form a momentary cloud in front of his face. It was pleasant, but only for a moment. “Come with me,” he said.
“Okay,” Sandy said again.
He thought about warning her about just agreeing like that. It didn’t matter now. He was sure that it was something she’d learn on her own, either way. He took a few light steps toward a ladder that went to the top of the building. “Come here,” he beckoned to her.
“Why?”
“I have something to show you,” he said, “a Christmas present.”
Smiling, Sandy went to him. He motioned to the ladder as she drew near and helped her onto the first rung.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he promised, “don’t get scared.”
“I’m not scared,” she said, defiantly.
“Alright, then. But be careful, angel,” he said, then muttered, “it’s a terrible fall from here.”
She climbed the ladder with an ease and grace that impressed even him, and he reached the top a moment behind her. “Well done, child,” he applauded.
Sandy was impressed with herself, but still confused. “Why did you bring me up here?”
“To show you,” he said. He took a few steps closer to the edge, then sat down. He patted the ground beside him, signaling for her to take a seat. She did.
Together, they looked out. From here, by the water, they could look out at the whole city. It was gleaming. Shining so bright that it hurt their eyes. But nonetheless, neither took their eyes off the silver city.
“Wow,” Sandy breathed.
“I come up here every day,” he said. “Just to look. Just to remind myself.”
“Of what?”
“You may not understand, child,” he pondered, “or perhaps you do. But sometimes, people do cruel things to each other. Say things or do things that they don’t mean. Or worse, that they do mean, but that are very bad. When I come up here, it reminds me that they are capable of beauty too. That they can create beauty. That inside them, there is…” his voice trailed off, he looked down, from where she sat he looked almost like a gargoyle. “Hope,” the Sad Man finished, “that in them there is hope.”
“It’s really pretty up here,” Sandy said, perhaps in agreement.
“It is.” He patted her on the shoulder, then took another look across the water. “I want to thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
The Sad Man shrugged. “You were nice to me.”
Sandy’s brow furrowed, confused. “People don’t like you?”
The Sad Man shook his head, hesitantly. “People don’t like me the good majority of the time,” he said, “this day, though, they don’t really mention me at all. It’s almost peaceful, really, in its own way. But for someone like you to come along, and actually talk to me,  it’s… well, a miracle,” he paused, “in its own way.”
“It’s okay,” she said, “I like you.”
“I’m afraid that’s only because you don’t know me.”
“Then I hope I don’t ever get to know you, so that I can like you forever,” Sandy said.
“Wise beyond your years,” the Sad Man repeated, “very, very wise.”
“I probably shouldn’t stay up here,” Sandy said after a while, “mommy might actually notice then,  and she’d be mad.”
“The last thing I want is to upset your mother,” the Sad Man repeated. “Come,” he held out his hand.
She took it.
Together, they walked to the edge. “It’s a long way down,” Sandy noted. “Did you fall.”
“Once,” he said, “it was enough.” He went down first.
This time, she didn’t need any help going down.
The Sad Man skipped to last few rungs, leaping onto the ground like an expert gymnast. He struck a cocky pose as he landed, smiling up at her.
“You don’t seem sad at all,” Sandy said as she reached the bottom.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“In my head I called you the Sad Man,” she explained, “because I didn’t know your name. But now you don’t look sad at all.”
He nodded. “Quite so,” he said, “I think someone came along and raised my spirits. I thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome,” she said immediately, as if trained to do so whenever a ‘thank you’ was uttered. She looked down at her shoe. It was beginning to come untied.
“I have another present for you,” the Sad Man said.
“Oh?” she didn’t look up.
“Merry Christmas.”
She turned around. He was gone. “Hello?” she called. “Hello?” But no answer came. Feeling abandoned again, Sandy hung her head. She pouted, standing in the alley, telling herself to go home. That maybe mommy had changed her mind. Maybe she wanted her around again. But even at seven, Sandy knew there was no hope of that.
Then, a jarring, cold feeling. It came at the back of her neck, right on the last unprotected spot before her coat caught the rest. It felt sharp, like the first drop of rain. Only it stuck. She held out her hand. Little white specks of sugar clung to her black glove. More came down, slow and steady.
She smiled. Shivering a little, Sandy looked up as the snow began to fall. She laughed. It was coming down heavy. Now that she thought of it, she hadn’t seen it like this in awhile. Not looking sticky enough for a snow man, but it was sure to cake the ground. Maybe with a whole foot out in the place behind her apartment building. Mommy used to take her out there for snowball fights, but now she knew she’d be going out alone. She didn’t mind so much anymore. If that was the case, then she couldn’t wait to make an angel.