The Wall, A Christmas Story (standard:Flash, 434 words) [1/3] show all parts
Author: GreyBeard	Updated: Jan 24 2006	Views/Reads: 3271/0	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This flash-fiction entry is part of a somewhat longer piece "Another Side of Life" about death, resurrection, power and beauty with a twist.

"The Wall, A Christmas Story." 

That night, that horrible night, that they brought Nick back - I sat for
the longest time – and stared at my wall - it was gray, yesterday, and 
grainy – sort of sad looking - crumbling and old just like Nick – but 
it was eternal too just like all the rest of this endless nightmare. 

I think I must have cried for awhile – sobbing to myself – trying to
control my temper – trying to not just reach out and remove them – 
walls and all – the temptation was so great. In my mind I could imagine 
the horror in their eyes – almost taste it – it was  - so - so 
tempting. 

But I hold on – for their sake – my captors. God was with me, comforting
me, soothing down the inner flames – even when they joked about fixing 
up the wall – the gray wall – my wall. Even when they smeared Nick all 
over the wall – my wall – covering up the gray with his red blood  - 
they thought that was funny –  so very funny. 

But I didn't let go – I just cried and prayed for them, for more
strength. It's so hard not to hate them, not to want to kill them. For 
just the briefest of instants, just a flicker of time really - there 
was small flash, just a little slip – and all cockroaches died. 

You see I had focused on one of them, it was crawling over a small piece
of Nick that had fallen to the floor – that bothered me – it made me a 
little sad and yet a little mad too - and well – then there weren't any 
left  - anywhere - anytime - not even one. 

I had thought when they killed his reindeer that I wouldn't be able to
stand it, the rage had boiled up – ready to serve – piping hot – but I 
held on –  I had to help the children and all the little ones. 

Later ... the wall is grey again – my wall is clean – I fixed it – I
reached out and changed it ever so slightly – I could hear the atoms 
singing – the music of the spheres – the rhythm of my wall – here 
inside. 

You see I couldn't let all those children down – I didn't do it out of
hate but out of love – I just rearranged it – so Nick and his deer 
would yet fly again and I didn't forget this time – I put all the bugs 
back too. 

And now I'm safe again here – behind the wall, safe from all of them,
safe behind my wall. But I haven't forgotten them. 


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