Collection of 'Shots

There were the occasional times at Christmas when you could feel the happiness that radiated off of the happy customers in Sharme Mall. Then there were others, those few people that came through the checkout that wore the depressed look, like they had been drained of every good feeling that they may once have had. It was on one such day that I met one of those people. He was tall, of fair stature, dark hair, and had dank, dull look on his face. He was waiting patiently behind an older woman with slowly graying hair. He didn’t have a cart, for the space next to him was empty. Nor did he have a basket either, for there was nothing in his hand except a little porcelain doll in a pink dress, brown curls tumbling down one side of her neck. As I scanned the woman’s items, I watched as the man fumbled for loose change in his pockets. Soon it was his turn and a worried expression crossed his face. Gently, he laid the doll down on the counter and looked down at me with onyx black eyes. “I don’t have any money,” he said to me in a hoarse voice. “But I do have this,” he pushed forward a silver ring. I examined the intricate loops and the engraved details with a thumb. It seemed to be a wedding ring. I laid the ring back on the counter and looked at the man. “I’m sorry. I simply can’t take this from you.”
Sadness gripped the man tightly; like those words caused his whole world to crumble. He slid the ring back on and told me in a light voice, “Thank you for trying anyway. Merry Christmas.” He picked up the doll and walked away with a small limp in his step. I watched him leave with a sullen demeanor. I was shocked that he had still wished me a happy day even though his was not. I continued my shift until my manager came and replaced me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and told me to go home, that I had done well. He put a few coins into my open palm. I smiled and he smiled back. I entered the staff room and donned my coat and scarf, exchanging my elf shoes for my boots. I took the back exit and began the 42 block walk home. I didn’t have a car, nor did I earn enough to keep up a steady maintenance with it if I had. My breath came in puffs and the hot air swirled into the cold air, mixing and blending, forming a light mist. It stayed there before it too, was swept away like the stray newspaper that had been swept into the streets.
I wrapped my tan velvet coat around me tighter. It was a small attempt to keep me warm and did little to keep me so. I looked up for a brief second and saw a familiar black trench coat. I hesitated for a minute before glancing both ways and crossing the ice slicked street. I tapped the person on the shoulder, and when they turned to face me, sure enough it was the same man who wanted the doll and tried to trade his wedding ring. “Yes?” I ignored his hasty manner and proceeded to hound him with ample questions. “Why did you want the doll?”
He looked down for a minute, staring at the frosty ground below. “My daughter is ill; and I have little time left to spare with her. All she wants is a doll for Christmas.” He replied finally making eye contact. “If I may ask, why does she want that doll in particular?” A single drop of water made slipped down his face leaving a wet trail behind on his cheek, indentifying itself as a tear. “So she can have a friend go with her when she makes her journey into heaven.” With that, he turned on his heel and left, disappearing into the frosty mist. For the second time today, I was rendered speechless.
The next day, I went down to the shop, even though it wasn’t my day to work. I searched all over the store, every isle, every shelf, and finally in the back on the only shelf I had not checked lay my quarry.
The porcelain doll, who had brown hair that tumbled down her left shoulder, and sported a pink dress. Carefully, I scooped her up and hurried to a checkout lane, and when it was my turn I gently laid her down on the counter. My manager was there as the cashier. He knew what happened and knew what I was doing. He merely smiled and sent me on my way.
I stopped at every house and asked them if they had a sickly daughter and showed them the doll. Every adult, every parent shook their head and closed the door. By midnight, I had not found the man with the sick daughter. I was giving up and making my way home when I heard the whispered whispers of snatched conversation in the shadows. “I’m sorry darling. I tried the store again today. The one you wanted was not there.” I recognized the man as my prey. I slipped through the murky air and found a cottage with only one window, which was open and lit. There they were. I took the few steps forward and quietly rapped on the door. No one answered. Thinking they had not heard me I raised my fist to try again. There was no need. The door swung open with a slight creak.
“Yes?” I slowly lifted the hand that contained the doll and the man upon seeing it smiled a smile so wide that I was filled with brightness; happiness that I had not felt in years. “Thank you, thank you!” The man reached for the doll and I gave it to him. “Father, who is at the door?” croaked a weak voice. He turned and faced the invisible girl and spoke quietly to her. “A kind lady, she brought us something.” There was a still silence then a small rustle. “Well for goodness sake, let her in, it be freezing tonight.” He smiled slightly and thanked her for the reminder on his manners, then ushered me inside. The room itself was quaint and very pleasant overall. A faint smell of chocolate and fir tree hung over the house leaving a behind a fragrance that made it feel like Christmas. The girl had a diamond face, one rarely seen in this town. She had beautiful red locks flowing over her shoulders; she looked to be about 7 or 8 years old. I felt saddened. A gorgeous youth such as her should not have to suffer at this age nor should have to face death sooner than God planned. Removing my hand from my coat pocket, I brought the doll forward and placed her in the little girl’s hand. The girl looked down at the gift then broke down into quiet sobs, smiling through her tears and eventually found her voice to thank me a thousand times over. After things had quieted down some, she lowered her voice and her eyes. “Now I have a friend, father. I can go to Heaven now. You don’t have to worry. I’ll see mother again. I’ll be okay. I know you will join us too, eventually, right?” The man smiled. “Of course, princess, darling, I wouldn’t ever leave you.” She smiled and nodded before closing her eyes. And an hour later, Gracie Sheperd was no more. The man, I had found later was Erik Carter. That was his sister’s daughter, but I could understand why he would say she was his. Years later after the night we had spent together, we were married, and we died together, in each others’ arms. But before we left the earth so swift and quiet, we left behind a gift for another age. Her name is Hope. Hope Anolia Sheperd.