The Mistwalker Comes in the Night

(original story by R. Samuel Braden, first published on October 30, 2014)

The crisp autumn air had a bite to it as four young campers made their way through the trees along the bank of the Iowa River. It was mid October, and the mist rising from the warmer water covered the land in a thick fog. Somewhere overhead a full moon was peaking cautiously from behind the clouds, casting its silver light upon the fog and causing the air itself to shimmer and glow as if there were some kind of ethereal magic at work.

The youth were weary and footsore by the time they reached the campsite on a sandbank of the river. They’d hiked for nearly a mile from the road where they’d had to leave their cars, and every one of them was ready for a warm fire and some supper.

Despite their weariness they moved quickly, digging out the ancient fire ring and getting a new cooking fire going. Its bright, yellow light pushed back the mist and banished the cold that had been clawing at their faces like a hungry predator. In the fire’s warm embrace the campers felt at ease and took to preparing supper. A pot of chili and corn chips might not be the fanciest fare, but it was hot and filling, and before long they all were stuffed.

Leaning back from the fire and reclining against a log, the oldest of the group cleared his throat. He was a tall, lean young man with a dark red goatee and bright grey eyes which gleamed mischievously in the fire light. “Did you know this place is haunted?” he asked with a wolfish grin.

“Haunted?” Squeaked one of the other campers. He was a pudgy teenager with curly black hair and a freckled face. “Oh come on man,” he said, pushing up his glasses with one hand while glancing around at the others. “You don’t mean, like, literally haunted… do you?”

“Of course he doesn’t Oscar,” replied another camper, a girl with pumpkin-colored hair and a worn camouflaged hoodie. “But this is October,” she went on. “Ghost season for those who care about such things.” She tossed her hair with a shrug and glanced over at the river. The fog was thicker here, and the campers couldn’t even see to the far shore. It might have been a lake, except for the noticeable flow of the water. “I do have to admit,” she said, “Remus couldn’t have picked a better night for this little outing.” She glanced back at the older boy reclining against his log. “So what’s your story?” she asked. “I know you’ve got one.”

He smiled, sitting up and drawing in his legs so he sat cross-legged and glanced around at them. “Oh, no story Jessica,” he said innocently. “You’ll see for yourselves soon enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Jessica with a frown. “You expect us to believe we’re going to see actual ghosts tonight?”

“Not at all,” he replied cryptically.

“You’re impossible,” she retorted with an exasperated sigh.

While they’d been talking, the fourth member of the group, a skinny, quiet girl with long dark hair had been staring into the fire. Suddenly she screamed and scrambled back, pointing frantically at the flames. “Did you see that!?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“See what?” the others answered in unison.

“Someone just threw a log onto the fire.”

“What are you talking about Liz?” asked Jessica, tossing her pumpkin-colored hair and gazing skeptically at her frightened companion. “None of us added any logs to the fire,” she said, gesturing around to the two boys who were both sitting back at the edge of the light. “Are you in on Remus’ little ghost story prank or something?”

“What!?” exclaimed the dark-haired girl, jumping to her feet. “I see something freaky and you think I’m pulling a prank? That is so not fair! How many times have I stood up for you, Jess, when Maryanne Ravenwood and her clique said you were nuts? Huh?” She demanded, her breath coming in short heaves.

“Alright, calm down Liz,” replied Jessica. “Sheesh, I was just thinking you and Remus might be giving us a hard time, that’s all.” She reached out a hand and clasped her friend by the shoulder, pulling her in for a quick hug. “So what did you actually see?” she asked gently.

“Well, I was watching the fire,” she began, her voice quivering. “When suddenly a ghostly hand appeared out of nowhere and dropped a log right into the flames. Then it disappeared again. That’s when I screamed and fell back.” She looked up at her friend, her dark eyes wide with a fear Jessica had never seen there before.

“You’re being serious,” she said quietly, glancing around at the boys with suspicion. Her eyes fell on Remus, and she remembered what he’d said about them seeing ghosts that night. “Is this what you were talking about?” she demanded, turning around to face him. “Is this why you wanted us all to come to this particular campsite, so we would see… whatever this is?”

The older boy shrugged and returned her gaze. “It is true, there is something unusual about this campsite,” he replied calmly. “That old fire ring in particular seems to have an odd connection to the beyond. But there’s no reason to be upset. I’ve camped out here many times over the years, and nothing ever hurt me.” He gave them a reassuring smile. “Just think of it as a fun Halloween camping trip. After all, that’s what we’re in the mood for, isn’t it?”

As if to highlight the moment, a sudden chorus of chattering voices mixed with laughter erupted from the fog around them. Jessica jumped, Liz shrieked and Oscar fainted. But the laughter died away as quickly as it had come, and all was silent and still once more.

Jessica frowned, her brows knitting together under her disheveled orange bangs. Then a look of understanding came over her face, and she nodded. “Very clever,” she said, turning back to the older boy. “You hid remote speakers out here with creepy laughter to spook us with. And in this fog we’d never see anything beyond the firelight.”

Remus gave her a quizzical look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Speakers?” he asked. “You say that as if you just heard something.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she replied, her frown turning into a glare. “You mean to say you didn’t hear that freaky chattering in the fog just now, or the laughter that followed?”

Remus shrugged, and she gave an exasperated sigh. “Whatever,” she said, turning back to Liz. “Can you believe this guy?” she asked.

Just then a distant howl sounded, sending chills down the campers’ spines. “Is that a wolf?” asked Oscar, sitting up. “I didn’t think there were wolves around here.”

“There aren’t,” Jessica replied, rolling her eyes. “Remus is just messing with us. But I think it’s gone on long enough,” she said loudly, turning back to face him.

The older boy didn’t say anything, but his expression had changed. He was staring out into the fog and just nodded quietly. After a moment he stood up. “I, uh, have to go to the bathroom,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you pick up those speakers while you’re out there and bring them back?” Jessica called after him as he walked toward the edge of the firelight. “We really don’t need to enjoy the Wal-Mart Halloween special effects track the rest of the night.”

Remus waved back at her dismissively, then disappeared into the mist.

All was quiet save for the crackling of burning wood and the gentle flowing of the river nearby. The three friends sat staring into the reddening flames and relaxing on the soft sand as the fire slowly died down. Jessica had to admit, this was a great place to camp, and though she’d never tell him, Remus’ Halloween pranks were not half bad. The one with the ghost log on the fire was particularly interesting, and she made a note of asking him about it when he returned.

Sighing, she glanced around at the others. “He has been gone a while,” she noted. “I wonder if he got lost in the fog or something.”

“More likely he had to go number 2,” replied Oscar with a grin.

The girls grimaced. After a moment Jessica called out, “Hey Remus, you get lost out there?”

*Silence*

That’s strange, she thought. I know fog dampens sound, but he still should have heard me. He can’t have gone that far…

Suddenly there was a blood-curdling scream from somewhere out in the darkness, followed by a long, mournful howl. The three campers scrambled to their feet and stared around, wide-eyed.

“What in the name of all things unholy was that?” whispered Liz, her voice small.

Taking a deep breath, Jessica waited for her heart to slow back down to normal, then she tossed her orange hair and called out, “Nice one Remus, very convincing! But can we please call it a night now? This is starting to get old.”

But there was no answer. The fog rolled in ever thicker, and in the flickering firelight, the three friends stood alone.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Liz muttered, her dark hair falling like a curtain over her face as she peered out at the others.

“Remus, come on! Stop screwing around!” shouted Jessica. But no matter what they said, their fourth companion did not return.

Suddenly the fire flared as another transparent hand threw a log onto it. All three campers shrieked at the sight and jumped back. “G-g-ghosts!” stammered Oscar, his freckled face wide with fright as he pointed frantically with a stubby finger.

Jessica’s mind reeled. Could it be? Her own eyes had seen the ghostly hands, but there was no way they were actually real. It’s got to be some kind of trick, like with holograms or something. But still… where was Remus? Confound that guy! This is all his doing! Somehow he was pulling the most elaborate hoax on them since Orson Wells did that thing on the radio back when their parents were kids. And yet, what if he really was hurt?

Alright,” she said after a moment. “We should go out and look for that dork. Maybe he’s just pranking us, but maybe he is actually hurt. Either way I’m tired of sitting here in the sand…” with ghosts feeding the fire nearby, her mind finished what she didn’t say aloud.

“Wait, y-you want us to go out into that fog where there might be wolves?” demanded Oscar, shaking his head.

“Oh would you get over that!” replied Jessica. “There are no wolves, that was just a stupid recording Remus had to scare us.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked the freckled boy, his brow knit in concern. “What if you’re wrong?”

“Then I guess we’ll get eaten,” she replied with a toss of her orange hair. Then, without waiting for the others, she picked up a flashlight and started off in the direction their missing companion had gone.

Oscar and Liz glanced at each other, then at the fire which was actually burning brighter now, as if the ghost hands had somehow added real logs to it. “Jess, wait up!” they shouted and hurried after the other girl.

“Decided to brave the wolves after all, huh?” she asked with a wry smile as the two of them caught up.

“Something like that,” they muttered.

“Well then, get out your flashlights and stay close,” she said. “We don’t want to lose each other in this fog.”

They both nodded, pulling out their flashlights and switching them on. Then together the three friends stepped out of the firelight and into the mist.

Immediately it felt like a cold, wet blanket had descended upon them, and they shivered. Their tiny flashlight beams were swallowed up by the fog which was now thicker than ever. Jessica frowned. This was unearthly. She’d grown up in Iowa and seen plenty of foggy nights, but none of them like this. “Remus!” She called out. But her voice fell dead at her feet, dampened by the unnatural mist that pressed in around them.

“I really don’t like this,” whispered Liz, her beam dancing as her hands trembled.

They were at the edge of the sandbank now, and the shore sloped upward steeply. “There!” shouted Jessica, pointing with her flashlight at a set of boot prints in the mud. “Those are his alright,” she observed. “But why did he go up there?”

With no other option but to follow, the three campers scrambled up the bank following the tracks. Finally, their hands and shoes covered in mud, they found themselves in the tall grass at the top. Glancing back toward the campsite they could barely see the glow of the fire through the thick grey soup that filled the air. After a moment Jessica spoke again. “It would probably be a good idea if one of us stayed here where you can still see the light from our camp. That way we don’t all get lost.”

“Stay here, alone?” squeaked Oscar.

“I’ll stay,” volunteered Liz, much to the freckled boy’s relief. “Besides, if Remus is hurt and can’t walk, you’ll need someone stronger than me to help you drag him back.”

Jessica glanced skeptically at the pudgy, freckled boy, silently wondering if he’d be any real help when it came to it. Finally she shrugged. “Alright, let’s go then,” she said and started to continue after the trail of muddy footprints. But something made her pause and turn back. Clasping Liz on the shoulder she gave the slender girl an encouraging nod. “It’ll be ok, we’ll find him and be back before you know it.” Then with one final squeeze, she turned back and disappeared into the mist, Oscar close behind.

Up here among the trees with the sound of the water far behind the night was still and utterly silent. Jessica’s quickening heartbeat was the only sound pulsing in her ears as she and Oscar trudged along in the darkness. It was slow going, having to step over tree roots and duck through low branches. Even the flashlights didn’t help much with the fog so thick.

Not having a wristwatch, and this being before cell phones became common, neither of the teens had any way to tell how much time was passing. But after what felt like hours suddenly Jessica came to a halt, causing Oscar to run into her. “What is it?” he asked.

“There,” the pumpkin-haired girl replied, pointing with an outstretched hand at a pile of shredded clothes. There was a shirt, ripped in half, and a pair of blue jeans slashed at the knees by wicked-looking claw marks. Nearby a single tennis shoe lay on its side.

“Are those Remus’ clothes?” squeaked the freckled boy, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Jessica replied, unable to take her gaze off the frightful scene.

“There’s no body,” Oscar observed.

“Hmm,” she nodded, running a hand through her hair as she tried to figure out what it could mean.

Suddenly a scream pierced the night. Jessica and Oscar froze, their blood running cold. It had come from back down the trail behind them. “Liz?” they called out together, but there was no answer. Turning, they sprinted back toward where they’d left her as fast as they could, dodging tree branches and stumbling over roots in the dark.

They reached the river bank without warning and nearly tumbled headfirst over the edge. After regaining her balance, Jessica cupped both hands to her mouth and shouted, “Liz! Where are you?” But there was no reply. The slender girl had vanished.

Just then Oscar gave a startled yelp and fell to the ground with an audible thump. Whirling around Jessica shone her light in his direction. “Are you ok? What happened?” she demanded.

The pudgy boy sat up, rubbing his freckled face with one hand. In the other he held up a shoe. Jessica recognized it as one of Liz’s. But no other sign of the missing girl could they find despite searching desperately all around the bank and calling out into the night. She had simply vanished leaving naught but a shoe behind. Finally, dejected and weary the two campers dragged themselves back into the circle of fire light at their camp. Strangely enough the fire seemed undiminished; it was burning just as hot and bright as when they’d left to begin their search. But cold and exhausted as they were, neither teen objected to the strangeness.

“I say we stay here in the warm firelight until morning,” Oscar declared, throwing himself down on the sand with a loud sigh. “It’ll be easier finding our way back to the car in daylight, and from there it’s only a half hour drive back home. Then we can call the police and get a search party out here to find our missing friends.”

Jessica was silent, but she nodded. This night had just turned into one disaster after another and by now she wanted nothing more than to be home in her warm bed finding out that it was just an unpleasant dream. But such a wish was not meant to be…

Her eyelids drooping, she was just nodding off to sleep when suddenly there was a horrific growl from somewhere in the fog nearby. Without warning a pair of furry, clawed hands as dark as the night reached out of the mist and grabbed Oscar from where he lay. The pudgy boy gave a startled shriek, then was gone. “Oscar!” Jessica screamed at the top of her lungs, but deafening silence swallowed her calls until she had no voice left.

Finally, exhausted and alone, she slumped down onto the sand, her back to the fire. And there she sat, gazing into the fog through tear-blurred eys, waiting for whatever was out there to return for her. Suddenly, whether through emotional trauma or some kind of vision she saw the transparent outlines of other campers sitting around the fire. Some were children, some grownups, others were teens like her and her friends. They flickered and faded like the flames of the fire itself, and she stared in amazement. Just then her eyes fell on one face she recognized. His red goatee and bright grey eyes seemed to stand out from the rest. “Remus!” she shouted, staggering to her feet. But as she did so the ghostly images faded, and she was alone once more.

“Oh Remus,” she lamented, “you’re dead aren’t you? Curse this place, I wish you’d never brought us here! But still…” she wiped away a tear. “I promise you and Liz and Oscar I’ll survive, and I’ll find out what happened to you if it takes the rest of my life.”

* * * *

“Whether she ever found the cause of her friends’ disappearances or not we’ll never know,” announced the story teller dramatically. “The police never did find any bodies, and it has remained one of the state’s most famous unsolved mysteries!”

A chorus of groans, mixed with mild applause filled the air around the campfire as he sat back, crossing his long legs and grinning at everyone. It was Halloween night and they had all come out to the sandbar to enjoy a night of camping and ghost stories. Overhead a full moon was trying to break out from behind a layer of clouds, and in the distance an owl hooted. The mood was perfect, and everyone seemed to be having a good time.

“I’m curious about one thing,” a boy asked just then. “Well, two things actually. The first is: what ended up happening with the ghosts? Were they real, or was it all some kind of prank?”

“Ah, that’s the best part!” declared the story teller, sitting back up and gazing around to get the attention of those sitting nearby. “You see, they weren’t actually seeing ghosts at all. What they saw that night… was you!” He pointed dramatically at the other campers around the fire.

“What? Us!? That doesn’t make any sense. We’re not ghosts!” objected a lady with a wool coat and a scarf.

“No, of course not,” replied the story teller. “They’re the ghosts. We’re alive. But we’re sharing the same campfire.” He grinned, his grey eyes sparkling mischievously. “There’s something about this particular spot, this ancient fire ring, it connects campers through time. That group in the story is long dead, but somehow they could see us through time, and to them it appeared as if we were ghosts.” For emphasis he reached out and dropped another log onto the fire, which immediately flared up.

“That’s preposterous,” declared the lady with the scarf. “Your story was good and all, but now it’s just getting silly.”

“You just keep thinking that,” he muttered under his breath. “It’ll make things that much more enjoyable when the time comes.”

“And anyway, the second thing I was wondering,” the boy was saying, startling the story teller back to the moment. “Is why did you add yourself into the story, Remus, but not have the rest of us in it? I would have liked to be in your story.”

The man blinked, startled by the question. “Well, I,” he began, running a hand through his red goatee as he thought of how to reply. Just then the moon overhead finally succeeded in breaking through the clouds and shone down on the river, a bright silver glow that enveloped the campsite and everyone around it. “It’s because I was actually there.” Remus grinned, his broad teeth glinting in the fire light, suddenly no longer teeth but huge fangs. As the campers watched, horrified, his handsome face sprouted fur and grew long into a snout. With a growl he turned his fearsome gaze on the nearest camper and lunged…

Chaos erupted in the camp and time seemed to stand still as the mighty werewolf sprang into the air, his clawed hands outstretched. The boy stared in horror, his entire existence about to be snuffed out, when suddenly as death was almost upon him, the beast convulsed in mid-air. A gleaming silver shaft blossomed in its shaggy red neck, and with a whimper the monster fell to the sand, dead before even reaching the ground. All eyes turned to see where the arrow had come from. There on the bank, not twenty yards away, stood a girl in a camouflage hoodie. She was holding a crossbow, and as they watched she slowly approached, keeping the weapon aimed at the beast. But by the time she arrived it had already begun to morph back into a man. Satisfied, she lowered the weapon. Then reaching up, she pulled back her hood to reveal a head of bright, pumpkin-colored hair.

“Mystery solved, Remus,” she said as a single tear fled her eye and ran down her cheek. She glanced over at the fire and the group of campers who were staring, awe-struck at her. “I’ve been hunting this beast for years, ever since he… well, you just heard the story.” She sighed. “But now it has a proper ending. Now nobody needs to be afraid of the big bad wolf.”

A Caribbean Christmas Carol

(original story by R. Samuel Braden – Christmas 2011)

It was Christmas Eve, 1979, and the tiny Caribbean island of Esperanza was bustling with activity. The holidays were good to the hard working people of the island, bringing tourists by the boatload with money to spend. The hotels were always packed full, and some enterprising folk had taken to renting rooms in their own homes for tourists wanting a “native experience.” It was a time of much prosperity and even more holiday cheer. At least it was such among most people. But there was one particular man on the island who didn’t feel any cheer in the holiday air, no joy in the music and dancing, no pleasure at the smells of the baking. He barely even cracked a smile at the cases full of money that passed by his desk as the sales were processed. No, there was not much to lighten his heart at Christmas, not much to sooth the lines of care etched on his hardened face. He was a man old beyond his years, who felt no compassion, no care for his fellow man, and who never seemed to share in others’ cheer. His name was Alejandro Verdinez.

Now lest you think Alejandro to be a total Grinch, you should know that he was not always this way. Indeed, some of the older residents of the island tell stories of a time, many years ago, when Alejandro was a happy man. They say he used to walk the streets with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. But that was before the Pale Death, the epidemic that struck the island in ‘67. People don’t speak of that time very much; it brings many painful memories for those who lived through it. But it is said that Alejandro lost someone that year, someone very dear to him, and in the decade and more that followed he was never the same. A piece of his heart died with the plague, and the man that survived has borne the scars of his wound ever since. Now he walks the streets slowly and deliberately, a frown on his face and a lock on his heart. He feels nothing for the holiday season, only that it provides more opportunities to line his pockets with money from gullible tourists.

Well as it happened on that Christmas Eve, 1979, señor Alejandro was about to have a run-in with hope, and he would find it in the most unlikely of places…

* * * *

The four o’clock bell chimed, and Alejandro looked up from his desk. There was still much to do, but a knot had begun forming in his back, and his legs had begun to cramp up. For all his shifting in his seat he started to feel that the only relief would be to get out of the office. A glance out the window showed the bright tropical sun reflecting off the water by the shore, and in his mind he could imagine the salty breeze blowing in among the palms. His thoughts wandered to the hotels along the beach and the hundreds of tourists running around on this island, stepping on this soil, breathing this air, and spending a fortune in money. Finally, he glanced down at his desk again, realizing he hadn’t been thinking about work for some time. In frustration he slammed the records book shut and got to his feet. He would take a walk. As much as he enjoyed looking at the beautiful numbers on those pages, he was certain he wouldn’t be getting any more work done tonight.

On his way out through the main hall he stopped only long enough to put on his hat and sunglasses, then it was out into the street with barely a nod to the guards at the door. It felt good to stretch his legs and breathe the fresh island air. Soon he found himself walking along the palm-lined avenue toward the docks. Pausing for a moment under a brightly decorated palm tree he took out a hand-rolled cigar, and lit it. Then taking a puff he glanced up at the garland and lights above him. “Meh,” he said and continued on down the street.

After he’d gone a few blocks he began to notice the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. And as he rounded a corner and the smell of freshly baked bread, grilled steak, and the abundant variety of imported foods hit his nose, he knew it was time for dinner. Just up ahead was the luxurious Cafetería Americana, a restaurant catering to the tourists, and also carrying the best food on the island. The decision to dine there was an easy one for Alejandro, who of course had the distinct privilege of being able to eat wherever he pleased at no cost, courtesy of his position. And so he headed toward it, his polished black boots clicking the pavement like a clock, ticking down to the time when his hunger would be satisfied.

At the end of the street he stopped beneath another tree and leaned against its trunk to finish off his cigar. It was a very good one, made locally of course, and he didn’t want to waste it. Besides, he took a distinct pleasure in watching the doorman at the restaurant squirm under his stare. Indeed it wasn’t long before a waiter appeared in the door, spoke quietly with the doorman, and then ducked back inside. No doubt they’re going to start rushing about in there, panicking to make sure everything is perfect, thought Alejandro with a grim smile. Let them run about, some of them could use the exercise!

So deep were his thoughts that he didn’t notice for a moment that he was no longer alone. Another man had come up while he was ruminating and now stood silently watching the building beside him. Suddenly aware of this other man’s presence, Alejandro turned to him and frowned. This was no native, that was for sure. The man was young, probably around twenty, with skin a pale white; shaggy brown hair and long sideburns adorned his face. He wore a brightly colored polo shirt and had the look of someone who was out of his home country for the very first time. Noticing Alejandro glaring at him, the man gave a nervous smile and said, quite unnecessarily, “I’m, uh, waiting to go inside.”

Alejandro raised an eyebrow at him, thinking to himself, And why should I care? But he didn’t say that. These tourists were the livelihood of the island, heaven forbid he should run them off by being rude. After a moment of awkward silence he said to the man, “I take it you are from America. How are you enjoying our pleasant little island?”

The man smiled again, looking rather silly Alejandro thought, and said, “Oh this island is awesome! It’s so warm and pleasant, totally feels like paradise, man!” And he grinned, making his face stretch into an even bigger smile. Alejandro almost told him to stop, that he was afraid the young American would hurt himself by smiling so much, but he managed to just nod quietly.

Taking another puff on his cigar, for the first time he wished it would hurry up and burn down so he could go eat and not stand around by this annoying foreigner any longer. He glanced back at the restaurant. Now there were two doormen standing by the entrance, their postures straight and their jackets spotless. Looks like they’re ready for me, he thought with a grim smile. Apparently the American had been watching him, because he asked, “What’s so funny?”

Immediately the smile evaporated, and Alejandro turned back to the tourist, regarding him coolly from behind his dark sunglasses. This man is excitable and inquisitive… like a puppy. He forced the smile to return. “The workers in the restaurant,” he replied, “always make such a fuss whenever I come here. I find it amusing.”

The American stared at him for a moment, then appeared to realize for the first time that Alejandro was someone of importance. His eyes darted up and down taking in the suit, the polished boots, the emblazoned hat, the dark sunglasses, and coming to rest on the glinting medal of the national emblem on Alejandro’s jacket pocket. “Oh, you must work in the government, right? I’m sorry I didn’t realize… I’m a little nervous tonight. I… have big plans.”

Alejandro raised his eyebrows in surprise at the tourist again. This man really has no clue, he thought as he reassessed the excitable young fellow. He was about to inform this ignorant foreigner of exactly who he was and why he shouldn’t have to be explaining it to people who should inherently know better, but something made him stop. An idea came to him then that it could be much more amusing to leave the man in the dark and wait to see how events transpired. And amusement was one thing that would be quite welcome tonight. For the past twelve years, Christmas Eve had been a particularly depressing time of year for the grim official. Perhaps this year he would have a little fun to take his mind off things. And what could be more fun than watching the workers in the restaurant have to deal with this silly young tourist? Taking one final puff on his cigar Alejandro nodded to the American, “Well, if your ‘big plans’ involve the Cafetería, would you be interested in a reserved table on the roof?”

If it was possible for the young man’s face to get even more contorted by surprise it would have to be something for the records. He opened his mouth as if to say he doubted that was even possible, then stopped and managed, “Are you serious?”

Alejandro nodded. “But of course, I do have some influence here. I could arrange a table for you if you wish.” He allowed a bemused smile to cross his face as he watched this stranger fumble with his shock. Dropping the stub of his cigar he gestured to the building. “Are you ready to go inside?”

“Oh, uh, no. I’m waiting for someone,” he replied, immediately turning a little red.

Ah, so it’s that kind of ‘big plans’, thought Alejandro. “What is your name young man?” he asked.

“Chris… err, Christopher Rawlings that is,” he said, then added rather uselessly, “I’m from Ohio.”

“You don’t say?” said Alejandro wryly. “Well Christopher Rawlings from Ohio, when you are ready to enter, tell the doorman that you have a special table reserved on the roof. Be sure to give him your full name of course.” Then before the excitable foreigner could do anything to make him change his mind, Alejandro turned and briskly made his way across to the restaurant door.

The two doormen crisply saluted as he walked up, radiating an air of personal discipline. Alejandro paused just for a moment to say, “That American over by the tree is a special guest tonight. Arrange a reserved table on the roof for him. Name is Christopher Rawlings.” Then he stepped past them and into the cool interior of the Cafetería.

He hadn’t gone five paces when one of the doormen came dashing inside and hurried over to the kitchen. Amusing indeed, watching them scurry about like that, he thought. Then his attention was drawn away as a waiter appeared, bowing quickly. “Excellency, so good to have you here tonight. Your table is ready on the balcony, if you’ll follow me.”

They made their way through the busy restaurant to a set of stairs on the far side which led up to the roof and a private balcony overlooking the beach. The cool evening breeze coming in from the sea was quite refreshing, and in the distance a salsa band was playing Feliz Navidad. Alejandro ordered his meal, then sat back to listen to the music and watch the other guests from behind his impenetrable shades. They were mostly well-to-do tourists from Europe and the United States, and he realized with some dismay that the net worth of the people on this roof at that moment was probably greater than that of the entire island.

He sat, thinking glumly about that for some time when suddenly some movement by the stairs caused a bit of a stir among the nearby patrons. Turning to look, Alejandro saw that the excitable American had arrived and was leading an exceptionally beautiful young lady by the arm. Big plans indeed, thought Alejandro as he watched them cross to a table not far from his own. In contrast to the formal attire of the other diners, these two were quite plain in their clothing. But the lady, with a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and auburn hair hanging loose around her face possessed a natural beauty that Alejandro couldn’t help feel was far more appealing than all the makeup-drenched elite that surrounded them.

Dinner arrived at that moment, and Alejandro immersed himself in the imported foods. The pork was rich and juicy, the wine exquisite, and as he sat watching the sun sink into the ocean he couldn’t help think that perhaps there were still some moments to be enjoyed in life. The music on the beach changed with the sunset, from a lively party rhythm, to a quiet, elegant selection of Christmas hymns. As the sky burned ruby red the music faded, and the voices of the cathedral choir took over, singing Silent Night. The music was beautiful and sweet and stirred up feelings in his heart that he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. Suddenly Alejandro realized there was a tear in his eye. It took him a moment to realize why this had happened, but by then it was too late to stop. He got to his feet and strode over to the rail of the balcony, gazing out at the sea. The choir below was singing, “…round yon’ virgin, mother and child…” and he felt the weight of years bearing down upon his shoulders. The years that he had buried the pain and grief and distanced himself from any relationship. The years that all started because of a mother and child: his child.

He could see them, at that moment, clearer than they’d been in twelve years. He could see his beloved wife and their young son sitting on this very beach watching the sun set. The waves were falling on the shore in peaceful rhythm, and his wife and son filled his heart with a warmth unmatched by even the heat of the tropical sun. But they were gone now, gone from his life forever, taken by that dreadful plague of ’67. The pain he felt at their loss had driven him for all this time. There were nights, even days over the years that he’d cursed his life, even cursed at God for what he’d lost. But now a new feeling was stirring in his heart. As he listened to the choir sing, he realized that he was not the only man to ever lose a son, not the only man to have his family taken from him. This very time of year was a reminder of that. It all started with the birth of a Son who would grow up only to be killed in a gruesome way, all for the message of love and forgiveness. And had that Son’s Father become filled with hate because of his loss? No, he had continued to show love to the very people who had done this wrong. And because of that love, all people could come to know forgiveness and find peace.

Alejandro bowed his head, ashamed that he’d been so self-absorbed by his own feelings over the years that he hadn’t thought of anyone else. There were others around him whose lives were far worse off than his own, who had lost loved ones too and were hurting. Christmas was a time of beginnings, a time of peace on earth and good will toward men. And it conveniently led into the New Year when one could start fresh. As he thought this, a feeling of peace came upon his heart, and the weight of all those years of pain fell from his shoulders. A smile as big the sea spread across his face, and he breathed deep the fresh night air.

Turning back to the balcony and the diners enjoying their extravagant meals, his eyes came to rest on the young American couple seated not far off. There was a couple just starting their lives, and with a little luck they could actually get things right and have a good future together. Despite the cool air, Alejandro could see beads of sweat on the Ohio boy’s face. He was trying to eat, look civilized, and work up the courage to ask his lady something important, and Alejandro could see he was having a terrible time doing all three. As he watched an idea began to form: a chance for him to give back to life, to help start two young people on a road he had long since left behind. The idea came to him suddenly and took flight in his mind, and before he knew it he was walking over to their table, carried by feet with a will of their own.

“Excuse me, Señor Rawlings,” he said in his most formal voice. “Might I have a word with you?”

The young man looked up, his face a mix of relief and annoyance in equal parts. Recognizing Alejandro, he immediately grew a smile and said, “Hey, it’s my patron! Such an awesome table sir, I really mean it.” Gesturing across the table he continued, “And this here is the l-lovely and… am-amazing Sophie Lauren.”

If his face had been a mirror of the sunset it couldn’t have been redder. To his rescue though, Alejandro diverted the lady’s attention with a bow and exchange of pleasantries, after which he turned back to Christopher and nodded to the rail. Proving he had more intelligence than he’d shown so far, the young man immediately understood and got to his feet. Excusing himself from Sophie, he turned and followed the dark official to the edge of the balcony.

“Let me ask you something, Christopher,” Alejandro said when they were out of earshot of Sophie. “The girl, you are planning to propose, yes? I could tell by the way you were suffering over there. No meal here is as bad as that.” He smiled.

The American gaped at him for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Yes sir,” he said. “She’s the most special lady I have ever met. We’re here with some friends on vacation, and I figured Christmas Eve in the Caribbean would be the best time to make my proposal. I want it to be special… but it’s hard! She likes the ocean breeze and the outdoors, especially at nightfall. I thought the restaurant roof here would be perfect. I want this to be something she’ll never forget, but it’s so crowded I keep feeling people’s eyes on me. And I can’t work up the courage to take out the ring! And… I guess I’m worried this won’t be special enough.”

Alejandro looked down at the man, for a moment seeing the face of his own son who would have been a teenager now if he were still alive. Choking back that feeling he took a breath and said, “Christopher, if she knows that you really love her, then whatever you do will be special enough. But…” he grinned, “if you want something that she will truly never forget, and where no one can watch you, I have just the idea.”

* * * *

The young American’s mind was awhirl with emotion as he staggered back to the table where his lady sat waiting. She looked up at him expectantly, then leaned forward with concern as he fell into his chair. “Chris, are you alright?”

“I’m, uh, quite alright,” he replied, “just in shock. I never would have believed someone would be so nice. I mean I know it’s Christmas, but…” his voice trailed off, and he looked up at the sky where the first night stars were beginning to appear. “God must be watching out for me,” he added quietly.

“That man did something nice for you? How sweet,” said Sophie, taking his hand. “What was it?”

“Well,” the young man replied, “You’ll see in a few minutes. We have something special arranged.” He grinned, a twinkle in his eyes.

Soon they had finished their meal, and he led her by the arm down the stairs and out onto the turf by the beach. Then reaching into his pocked he surprised her by pulling out a blindfold. “My lady, if you would permit me?” He held it up.

A sense of excitement coursed through her, and she nodded. Quickly he placed it over her eyes and tied it off in back, taking care to be gentle. Then taking her arm he led her down the beach to the platform that awaited.

Alejandro stood by the platform steps, remembering his own proposal as he watched the two young lovebirds approach. The sun was fully set now, and a multitude of stars sparkled in the sky overhead. Down the shore a Jamaican steel drum band was playing Joy to the World, and all the palm trees along the road were lit up with Christmas lights. It was a spectacular sight, and this young couple was about to see it in a way neither one of them would ever forget.

Nodding to the young man, Alejandro jogged up the steps to begin preparing their vessel for release. It had been a few years since he last operated one of these things, but he was confident it would be no trouble. Behind him he heard Chris cautioning his arm-bound lady about the steps, and it brought a smile to his face. Final adjustments made, he turned around just as the Americans stepped aboard. Then with a nod to Chris to hold on, he cranked up the gas and a spout of flame shot up into the air. Sophie shrieked at the noise and grabbed hold of Chris, and then they were airborne! Twisting around to face her, the young American slid the blindfold off her face, and for the first time she saw where they were: a hot air balloon.

The ground was rapidly receding below them, and up above a sea of stars opened to embrace the rising trio. Sophie gasped in silent awe, staring one moment at the indescribable beauty around them, then the next at the remarkable man beside her who, until that day had been just a plain, if excitable, guy with nothing particularly amazing about him. But now, he stood there by her side as they floated on the wind into a window of eternity.

Below them now the island was aglow with Christmas decorations. Lights shone from every palm tree and every building. It was a cadence of light and warmth that spoke of holiday cheer like the most glorious Christmas tree ever cut. And around the island, the sea was still as glass, reflecting perfectly the light of a million stars. They hung there in the sky, the stars above, the stars below, and this tiny island like a beacon of light in the midst of an infinite abyss. Time stood still, and Alejandro watched as the two of them stood mesmerized by the awe of the moment. He smiled and adjusted the flame down as the balloon reached the end of its long tether, parking it safely a thousand feet above the island.

In silence they drifted through time and space, and then it happened. There in the sky above Esperanza on Christmas Eve night, Christopher Rawlings went down on his knee and held up a ring that sparkled like the very stars around them. And as he watched the young lovers embrace in teary joy Alejandro sighed with inner peace. All these years of holding back his emotions, of keeping people at bay, of being mad at the world, all that was washed away. In this moment he saw love blossom and a new couple begin their life together. In this moment, he felt he’d done something right.

The two Americans hadn’t let go of each other the rest of the flight, and as the balloon came drifting back down toward the platform, suddenly there began a chorus of bells. They chimed and bonged, big and small across the island. Alejandro looked at his watch and smiled. To the new couple he said, “Merry Christmas.”

Glancing at his own watch for the first time Chris replied with amazement, “My word, it’s midnight!” Then as the balloon thumped into the ground he said, “Alejandro, I don’t know how I can ever repay you for what you’ve done for us tonight. It… it was the best Christmas present anyone could ever hope for. Please tell me, how did you manage all this? Wasn’t it expensive?”

Alejandro smiled and spread his hands wide. “How did I manage this? The same way I manage everything else on my island, I give a command and people carry it out.”

“Your island?” Sophie replied in surprise. “You mean you’re…”

“El Presidente, si.” He said with a grin. “El Presidente Alejandro Verdinez, elected ruler of the island of Esperanza.”

“But, but you were… I mean why would you…!?” Sophie sputtered in amazement.

“Why would I help a couple of American tourists have a wonderful night when I could have been in my palace relaxing in opulence?” He chuckled. “It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that the two of you have given me a gift, yourselves. This glimpse of true love has reminded me of the real warmth of Christmas. If there was ever a gift I could give back to make a lasting difference, it was this. I wish you both the very best, and may you have a long and happy life together. Merry Christmas,” he bowed, “Merry Christmas indeed!”

* * * *

“He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree.”
~Roy L. Smith