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A christmas story?

A man lay on the bed, covered by a single thick blanket. His eyes were closed. His chest heaved peacefully, up and down, up and down. He was smiling. 

Suddenly the man opened his eyes wide. His mouth twisted into a wordless scream; a dry, guttural gurgling rose from the base of his throat. Not again. No, no, no. I can’t take these any longer.

The door to the room opened.

“Did you hear something?” a voice came from the hallway, sounding bored.

The woman looked at him, her eyes wide. They were excited, hopeful, sad - and utterly beautiful.

As he met that gaze in his mind - he hadn't been able to move his eyes in some time - that excitement and hope died in her eyes.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely.

“It hasn’t... he hasn’t...”

The other voice came again. “If he were to wake up, he would already have. Even the doctors said that.”

The man blinked, once, twice. He tried to say something, but suddenly it was as if his muscles had gone limp, their strength sapped. He tried his all to move his mouth, to say anything, but it was as if he was a prisoner in his own body. Unable to do anything. Unable to say anything. Something welled up in his throat, a cold, heartless lump of emotions at the brink of breaking out - but he couldn’t let it out. He couldn’t cry. This was how it had always been. Why would it be any different now?

He gave up.

Then, surprising him, the woman stepped closer to the bed.

“It’s Christmas...” The words were a wistful whisper, laced with the thin mists. She was sobbing quietly as she placed her hand on the bed. So close to him.

His vision grew dark. No! Don’t go back! I want to stay! I want to stay...

She blinked.

Had that hand just... moved?

She placed her hand on his palm. Felt the texture of the hand, traced its surprisingly aged lines with her finger. Caught it tightly. It felt warm; warm like life. Then she felt it. This time she was sure about it. The hand had just moved!

“Soph?” the man at the doorway asked, a tinge of worry in his voice.

He looked up into her eyes. He recognized that familiar mischievous glint, that look that declared ‘I can do anything’. Though his vision was dark, this part was somehow clear. Her face, clearing up in his eyes as if it produced its own light. He couldn’t feel, but that face... he pulled on the sight of her, like a madman, like a man lost.

I always wanted to see you, he thought.

I always wanted to see you the most before I died.

“They warned about those, Soph. The twitching... it doesn’t mean that he’s back. It's false hope...” the voice sounded more distant, shakier than it had before. Unsure.

She looked into his eyes. “I just came to see you. I... even if you can’t see me, hear me...”

She clutched his hand tighter, sobbing into his chest. “Merry Christmas, J.”

The voice, panicked, boomed in his ears. “NO! YOU MUST NOT--”

Silence. Only him and Soph. That’s all.

He exhaled softly.

And clutched her hand.

His mouth opened and closed, a flurry of emotions coursing through him like electricity as he took in the scent of her perfume, felt the warmth of her head on his chest. She looked up from his chest, her mouth half-smiling, half-open in shock, staring into his eyes. He stared back, daring not to smile. She saw the glint of sanity in his eyes and could hold herself back no longer. She enclosed him in a tight embrace, laughing and sobbing in turn against his shoulder.

“How... how did...”

J glanced at the doorway. There was nobody there. There never had been. He smiled, and suddenly found a tear slipping down his cheek. Then another. The emotions he’d had to seal off for so long suddenly broke out with the force of a bursting dam. He cried, he laughed, he sobbed, his mind spinning as he simply drew on the sensation of being alive. And at the center of that sensation was Soph, pressed against him. He hugged her hard.

“Merry Christmas, Soph.”

Author's Note

e.g I can't write happy things. But hey, I kind of fell in love with this little story as I was writing it. It's melodramatic and soppy, just how I like them. Let me know how you think about this little Christmas-themed story!

Reviews

[Ashwin Shanker]

The story was very visual. I read it twice to get the context right. I loved the ending and you have connected the theme to Christmas really well.

I also liked the spacing between the paragraphs, something I could learn from you.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very sad Christmas tale. I liked the story line. You create sad place and final goodbye. Your description was amazing. Made the tale come alive. Thank you for sharing the powerful story.
Coyote

[Mikael Malmberg]

Thank you for writing the review Coyote! I wanted this to end happily, that J wakes up from a coma, but I see it's still a bit vague! Maybe that's for the better, let everyone figure it out for themselves. :)

Merry Christmas!

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good tale and you are welcome my friend.