This is the last set of stories I wrote for the Christmas contest. (You can read most of the others here and here. I’m not going to post the slice of life or satire stories. They are the weakest.)

I bent the rules a little here. The stories were supposed to be a maximum of 500 words, but there was no prohibition in the rules against sequels. So the following four are linked. The viewpoint character changes from one story to the next. I’ve posted the original stories, not the ones I submitted for the contest, meaning not all of them will be under 500 words.

I was participating NaNoWriMo when I wrote these and used them for my word count. I was writing short fiction, not a novel. I used these stories as personal challenges and tried writing things I wouldn’t normally write, just to stretch myself. For example, the first three of these stories are what is considered sweet romance. (This is not a genre I typically read, much less write.) You can read the first three without reading the fourth, although the observant reader may pick up on a slight discrepancy between the first and second parts.

The fourth story resolves the discrepancy, changes the reader’s understanding of what is going on, and makes the whole thing dark fantasy.

The Christmas Proposal I – Simon

Simon Cleary lit the candles and stepped back to admire the table he had set. Between the candles, the fireplace, and the lights on the tree, they set just the mood he was looking for. Rachel would be coming over soon. After dinner, they would trim the tree together. Then he would give her the gift he had saved months for. He gently caressed the small, square box in his pocket. A diamond ring with the central diamond encircled by a ring of small rubies and emeralds to signify the season.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Not his strong suit.

Simon began to pace the entry hall. On his second lap, he forced himself to stop. If Rachel arrived and saw him pacing through the glass of the front door, he would look too eager.

He forced himself to go back to the dining room. On a side table was a punch bowl filled with eggnog, his grandmother’s recipe. None of this stuff from the grocery store. He started to dip himself a cup. No, he was nervous enough that if he started drinking before he had any food in his stomach, he might not stop soon enough.

Simon had left his phone in the kitchen. He’d silenced it. Now, simply to kill time, he picked it up. He’d missed a call.

From Rachel.

She’d left a voice mail.

He almost dropped the phone trying to hit PLAY.

“Simon. Hi, it’s Rachel. I’m going to be there, but I have to make a stop first. Mrs. Thompson needed someone to run an errand for her, and since I’m on call, I’ve got to do it. I won’t be long. Promise.”

Simon sighed. Rachel worked part time with a local senior citizen assistance program. Their clients were folks who were still capable of living on their own but needed a helping hand from time to time. Mostly it was yardwork or small household chores. Sometimes grocery shopping or someone to drive them to doctor’s appointments. Things like that. Good and necessary work, and normally something Simon approved of entirely. Tonight he wanted to curse Mrs. Thompson.

But no, that wasn’t fair. Mrs.Thompson was a sweet old lady. If she needed something, then she needed something. It was just bad luck that Rachel was the one on call tonight. He should have planned this dinner for tomorrow night, when someone else was on call, but he wouldn’t have been able to wait.

Rachel’s giving nature was part of why he had fallen in love with her. It was through this program that he had met Rachel. When his grandmother had been enrolled in the program, he had seen how caring Rachel had been to his grandmother.

Simon resisted the urge to open the stove and check on the lasagna. That had also been his grandmother’s recipe. Rachel had told him one time how much she liked his grandmother’s lasagna.  That was why he’d chosen it instead of a more traditional holiday menu.

The doorbell rang.

 

The Christmas Proposal II – Rachel

Rachel Lapino slid to a stop in Simon’s driveway. She’d never liked driving on snow, and wet, heavy flakes had been falling since early afternoon. It was now after dark. She’d barely avoided a collision after leaving Mrs. Thompson’s place.

She wrapped her coat around as she went up the steps.

Simon must have been watching and seen her drive up. He opened the door before she reached it.

Neither spoke until she was inside. After exchanging greetings, Simon took her coat, hat, gloves, and muffler and hung them in the coat closet.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “Mrs. Thompson spilled some medication and needed an emergency refill. She doesn’t drive at night, and certainly not in this weather. I had to go by Benton’s Pharmacy before they closed.”

“It’s all right,” Simon said. “I understand.”

While some guys might have used that as a line, like a few men she’d dated (briefly) in the past, Rachel sensed Simon really meant it.

“Thank you.” She gave him her best smile. He blushed, but he smiled back.

That was one thing Rachel couldn’t understand about Simon. He didn’t seem to understand how attractive he was. He could have any woman in town he wanted. Yet somehow he seemed content to spend time with her. She was thankful for that.

Rachel found the silence awkward, so she said, “It smells great in here. Is that lasagna?”

“Yes. My grandmother’s recipe.”

“Thank you. Your grandmother could make lasagna like nobody’s business. I’ve never tasted any that’s near as good as hers. It’s been a long day, and you seem to know what a girl needs.”

“Glad to hear it.” Simon’s smile broadened. “Let’s eat.”

Rachel was hungrier than she realized. She had two servings of lasagna, plus bread, salad, and a refill on her iced tea. Simon for his part seemed anxious and picked at his food. Was he afraid she wouldn’t like it? If so, he needn’t have worried. It was as good as his grandmother’s.

Finally she pushed her plate away.

“That was fantastic, Simon. Thank you again.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

Simon looked away. If anything, his anxiety had increased.

“Is there something wrong? All night you’ve seemed…tense.”

“No. No, I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

They sat there in silence for a minute. What was bothering him?

“Shall we trim the tree?”

“Uh, sure.” Rachel knew that Simon had invited her over for dinner, but he hadn’t said anything to her about trimming the tree. She found the idea appealing. She’d assisted a number of clients with their trees over the last couple of weeks and until now had had no desire to decorate another one. But this was different. This was Simon.

“Yes,” she said with enthusiasm. “I’d love to.”

As they got up from the table, Simon reached out and took her hand. It was a sudden thing, and Rachel was a bit surprised. But she didn’t object.

The dining room and den were one large open space, the tree in front of the back window next to the fireplace. Simon led her to the coffee table where several boxes of ornaments were stacked.

“What shall we start with?” she asked.

 

The Christmas Proposal III – Simon

Simon couldn’t remember feeling a sense of relief like he’d experienced when he saw Rachel drive up. It was like coming out of a bad dream. She’d liked dinner, and while that didn’t surprise him, he was glad she had. He wanted everything to be perfect.

He wasn’t sure why he had taken her hand when they got up from the table. It had seemed the natural thing to do. Rachel hadn’t pulled her hand away, although he had felt her tense up for a moment before relaxing. He realized it must have been a surprise to her. Their relationship had been mostly platonic.

“What shall we start with?”

“Well,” Simon realized he was still holding Rachel’s hand, and she had turned to face him. “There are the glass balls. And some Christmas bear ornaments.” Simon had bought those especially for Rachel yesterday. She liked bears.

“And there’s tinsel. And the angel for the top of the tree.”

Simon realized he was talking faster and louder. He took a deep breath to force himself to slow down. The evening wasn’t going as he had planned.

“I love these ornaments,” said Rachel, holding one up by the string. “A bear Santa. How cute!”

She hung the ornament on the tree and reached for another. Simon was transfixed by the way highlights in her hair caught the light of the fire and reflected it back. Rachel hung two more ornaments then realized Simon wasn’t helping her.

“Simon?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Aren’t you going to help me, or do I have to do all the work?” Rachel held up a bear popping out of a wrapped Christmas present. Her smile told him she was teasing about doing all the work.

“Oh, of course. Just wool gathering.”

He took the ornament from her. “Where should I hang this little guy?”

“Wherever you like. It is your tree after all.”

Simon swallowed. Nothing was going as he had planned. Not since the doorbell rang.

“Well, it is for now.”

“What do you mean?”

Rachel got that little furrow between her eyebrows she had whenever she was working on a puzzle or trying to figure out a mystery. There was a note of suspicion in her voice.

“Well,” Simon tired to maintain eye contact and couldn’t. “I was hoping it would be our tree.”

He tried to say something more, but the words stuck in his throat.

Rachel took his hand that wasn’t holding the ornament in one of hers. With her other hand, she gently turned his face to hers.

“Do you want to ask me something, Simon?”

“Yes.” He handed her the ornament. He dug the box out of his pocket and got down on one knee. Rachel’s eyes grew wide. She took a deep breath and held it, bringing both hands to her mouth. The ornament hit the floor, forgotten.

Simon pulled the box from his pocket and opened it.

“Rachel, will you marry me?”

Tears filled her eyes as she nodded, unable to speak.

Simon knew he’d made the right decision earlier that evening.

 

The Christmas Proposal IV – The Visitor

Simon tried not to run when he heard the doorbell and forced himself to walk. That would be Rachel.

He flung the door open, and his smile faded. The man standing there wasn’t Rachel.

“May I come in?” he asked.

The man was tall and thin, almost gaunt. He wore a long, grey trench coat and a matching hat. His face was long and cleanshaven, with an almost lipless mouth and eyes that matched his coat. His voice had a note of infinite sadness to it. Simon assumed he was a cop.

“Is there something wrong?” A thought struck him. “Has something happened to Rachel?”

“No, but this matter would be better discussed indoors. May I come in?”

Simon wasn’t sure why, but he moved out of the way to allow the man to enter.

The stranger made no move to go past the entry hall.

“Time is short, so I’ll come to the point, Simon Cleary.”

“Rachel is scheduled to die in a car accident in a few minutes.”

“What? How do you know that? And just who are you?”

The man looked at Simon. Simon realized his eyes had no irises, just dark spots where they should be. It felt like he was seeing into eternity.

“I am the Angel of Death. It is my duty to know such things.”

Simon started to protest, but the stranger held up a hand.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

He closed his fist. Simon felt his heart stop beating. There was no pain, but he knew he had no pulse. He tried to say something, but his lungs wouldn’t work.

The man unclenched his fist.

“That should suffice to demonstrate I am telling the truth,” the Angel of Death said. “Rachel Lupino is scheduled to die in an automobile wreck minutes from now.”

Simon was overcome with horror.

“Can you stop it?”

“Yes,” the man said, “I do have some limited discretion in these matters, especially during this season. But such aid comes with a steep price.”

“What do you mean?” asked Simon.

“I can grant Rachel an additional three years of life, but they come at the cost of yours.”

“I don’t understand.”

There was an urgency in the Angel’s voice. “Rachel will die unless you choose to give up years of your life. She will live an additional three years, as will you. You will marry and have a happy life for three years, at the end of which you will both die when this house burns..”

“And if I say no?” Simon asked, already knowing what his answer would be.

“You will live for decades, never marrying, growing more embittered and lonely as the years pass.

“I ask you, Simon Cleary, do you love Rachel Lupino enough to sacrifice most of your life to give her a few more years of happiness?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Very well, then. So be it.”

The Angel of Death turned and walked out. The door opened and closed without his touching it.

Simon rushed to the door and threw it open.

The steps and yard were empty.