Tag Archives: writinganovel

Mary Christmas

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

Luckily my favorite table was open at the bistro I frequented in Alphabet City, the one by the window where the midday sun filtered through shelves of antique colored milk bottles, mason jars, and assorted glassware.

I scanned through the menu feigning interest in all the food options available for some unknown reason though I knew what I was going to order because my order hadn’t changed in over three years. The food here wasn’t really great but it was one of the few places in the city that had a natural ambiance that suited my temperament.

I felt a presence looming over me that smelled of Christmas—actually, the smell was of apples and cinnamon, which always reminded me of Christmas—so I placed my order by rote without looking up from the menu, keeping up the pretense of struggling with the choices of so many delectable options which was silly but perhaps I wanted the staff to recognize how much I liked the place.

“Um, that sounds delicious,” a voice said in a register higher than I was accustomed to in the bistro, a woman’s voice. “But I don’t actually work here.”

I looked up and was nearly blinded by a rosy-cheeked, platinum blonde woman bundled in the whitest fur coat in existence—hopefully not a real fur coat because that would be cruel—topped with a fur hat.

“Is anyone sitting here?” she pointed at the empty chair across the table from me.

I answered, “No…” as I glanced around at all the vacant tables situated throughout the eatery and I was about to bring this to her attention when she daintily and skillfully seated herself.

“Hi, my name is Mary, Mary Christmas,” she beamed a smile and proffered her white-mittened hand to shake. “You have a kind face so you may call me Mary or Your Royal Majesty Queen-Empress of the Known Universe, absolutely your choice but under no circumstances are you to refer to me as Merry as in Merry Christmas. I grew up being teased by that and I’m not having anymore of it.”

I didn’t answer because I was too busy processing what was happening which she took an entirely different way, most likely because I hadn’t completed the handshake ritual.

“Oh, you’re one of those, are you?” she sighed, slipping the mitten off her hand and rummaging through a white handbag produced from a fold in her coat almost if by magic.

“One of those?”

“A non-believer. A person who has to be shown instead of accepting things at face value,” she said as she pulled something out of her purse and handed it to me. “Here, proof.” It was her driver’s license and I’ll be damned if it didn’t list her name as Mary Christmas.

“Look, miss…”

“Mary.”

“Mary, I wasn’t doubting your name, strange as it may be, no offense…”

“None taken.”

“It’s just that, you know…”

“Know what?”

“Come on, you have to admit it’s a bit unusual for an absolute stranger to sit at your table uninvited.”

“Oh, but you did invite me.”

“I did?”

“Well, not you verbally, but your loneliness called out to me. I’m sensitive to things of that nature, people’s loneliness and all that.”

“I appear lonely to you?”

“Most definitely. No offense.”

“None taken, I guess.”

“And well, it’s Christmas time and no one should feel lonely on Christmas.”

“Oh, I get it,” I blushed against my will and was suddenly unable to keep eye contact with her. “Um, I’m flattered, I guess but this really isn’t my sort of thing. I don’t pay for…”

“Wait a minute, you think I’m a…”

“You’re not?”

“Definitely not.”

“I-I am so sorry! It’s just beautiful women don’t make it a habit of approaching me and…”

“Let me stop you right there. I will allow the infraction because you called me beautiful and before you misread anything else into me sitting at your table, if you and I become anything it will simply be friends, not friends with benefits or any of this other modern-day nonsense. I’m far too old-fashioned for that. And yes, even as a friend I still expect you to be gentleman enough to open doors for me as well as pull out my chair when we dine, thank you very much.”

“Um, okay?”

“And quit acting like this is weird,” Mary said. “Tis the season and I have no gift to bring other than to say, I see you. This has grown to be an unintentional world where people are acknowledged more on the internet than in real life, so I intend to change that, right here, right now, starting with you by asking you a simple question.”

“And what question would that be?”

“How are you doing?” Mary asked, looking me in the eye and giving me her full attention and I was about to respond with the automatic faux “Fine,” but there was something in her expression that made me feel that she was interested in hearing my honest response, so I told her.

I told her how I thought I was at the end of my rope. As an older gentleman who was closer to the end of the race than the beginning, I felt absolutely lost. My life was empty. I had felt this way before but then I wore a younger man’s clothes and was far more resilient, able to pick myself up by the bootstraps and rebuild my life but the change was always temporary and things crumbled and I had to begin again. The problem was I didn’t think I had the strength or wherewithal to start over again. I had lost all interest in the things I was once passionate about and all motivation to find something new was gone.

“Sometimes,” Mary reached her hand across the table and held mine. “We just need to focus on things beyond our circumstances to maintain our sense of peace and allow our senses to lead us to our true path.”

“Like you did by sitting at my table?”

Mary smiled and nodded. “Something like that.”

Now, I wasn’t one to believe in Christmas miracles but this bizarre woman, bless her heart, offered to be a knot at the end of my rope, transforming her from a random stranger to a catalyst of joy. And as the conversation continued, we discussed making a greater impact on society by acknowledging strangers and becoming a source of compassion for those in need and in turn challenging them to make the world a better place, filled with upturned smiling faces, happy to make contact with a living being instead of blue-lit zombies scouring their phones for acceptance and approval.

I never gave much credence to the idea of living a life of service as I equated it to religion and I was not a spiritual man by any stretch of the imagination but there was no denying how constantly amazed I was that a spontaneous conversation or a meaningful smile were so rare that they could literally be the highlight of someone’s day. Now, my newfound purpose in life had become making these rare moments of love between complete strangers the norm.

Thank you, Mary Christmas, for starting a revolution.

Happy Holidays, everyone! Be safe and be well!

Text and audio ©2020 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys

A Good Friend

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

She sits across from me, Saffron does, and never has a name been more appropriate for she is an uncommonly spicy girl who despite popular public opinion is just a good friend—no friends with benefits or any of the other nonsense for I am far too old-fashioned for that. And yes, I still open doors and pull out seats for women despite the occasional feminist grumble.

But I digress.

Saffron often comes to me to vent and I have learned to take on the role of father confessor without giving advice or going the gallant male route of attempting to solve and/or fix her problems. That was not an easy lesson to learn. Currently, she is seriously involved with a woman but recently began seeing a married man at her dayjob. This man, this convenient bit of temptation, is currently in couples counseling and he is not sure what he wants from his wife or his marriage but he suspects he is starting to develop serious feelings for Saffron. She is afraid she might feel the same way.

I endeavor never to judge my friends, but again, I am old-fashioned when it comes to relationships and leading a person on or leaving them in the dark is simply wrong in my book. I realize that honesty is not always an easy path to travel and the words “I don’t love you anymore” and “I’ve found someone else” can be the hardest words to say, but sometimes they simply need to be said. As much as I enjoy spending time with Saffron, my feelings on the matter are starting to affect my ability to simply sit back and enjoy her company…so I spoke to her about it and voiced my opinions.

And it all just rolls off her back. The problem with this is I know the woman Saffron is dating and she is a kind and good-hearted person and while I cannot speak for her feelings toward me, I consider this woman to be a friend and thus I have a vested interest in her emotional well-being.

As a good friend to Saffron, I believe my only two options are to either mind my business and turn a blind eye, or continue to pester Saffron into doing the right thing. But as a good friend to Saffron’s partner, my two options are slightly different. I can either confront the married man and convince him to let Saffron go and work on saving his marriage, or follow him and learn his habits and when he is alone with no witnesses about, make it look like a tragic accident.

This is the type of good friend I am.

I Wake Up Falling

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

I feel a pressure against my body that gives way to a cracking and tinkling sound. Suddenly, I am awake and my eyes take in every detail in an instant. I am on the wrong side of my bedroom window, surrounded by hundreds of tiny glass shards that catch the morning sunlight. There is a masked man standing on the proper side of the window, arms outstretched in a throwing motion. These images are caught in time and for a moment I am weightless until gravity returns and the noises of the city coming crashing down on my ears. I am falling storeys per second into rush hour traffic, pushed by a man I do not recognize for reasons I cannot fathom.

My final thought before my physical being comes to an abrupt halt is surprising clear: If there is an existence beyond this, I will spend the rest of my afterlife tracking down my murderer. I need answers and he needs to pay for what he has done.

In Health And In…

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Aida was awakened by the gamey scent of wet dog fur amalgamated with mildew, blood and rancid breath. Instinctively, she reached for her husband’s side of the bed to find it empty and soaked with sweat. She rose to sitting and once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, her hands flew to her mouth in order to stifle a scream. There was a figure crouched in the corner of the bedroom, half hidden in the black slashes of shadow. It was moulting from translucent skin and changing in the process into a thing that resembled no man or beast, like the stuff and nonsense creatures of fish wife tales, only it hadn’t occurred at the fall of dusk or when the full moon was at its apex. No, this transformation began at the hour of the wolf, when the stars faded into pitch and the sounds of nature were lulled into unnatural silence.

At first, Aida feared this changeling had devoured her husband but as it turned to look at her she noticed that its eyes belonged to Benjamin, the man she had loved before she knew what the word meant. It was those very same eyes that studied her now, and she thought she detected the creature’s internal struggle, being torn between a deep-rooted love and overpowering hunger as if it was trying to puzzle out how to satiate its appetite without breaking its own heart.

Each Time It Comes

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The temperature in the room changed and Rupert’s breath came in frantic little gasps as he smelled the hot, sickly sweet fragrant cloud of burning sulfur that singed the edges of his nostrils. Hackles raised as long bronze fingers spidered on his shoulders and a mouth crowded with sharp teeth kissed his neck.

Mother was home.

Auntie’s Little Secret

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She hadn’t needed to surf dodgy websites in pursuit of self-gratification because telepathy was Annabelle’s internet porn. One peek into a stranger’s seemingly innocent thoughts allowed her to slip behind the velvet curtain of desire, leading her down a delightful rabbit hole of dirty little sexual secrets and it was all fun and games until she accidentally peeked into her aunt’s mind and found scenario after scenario of herself in various forms of bondage, being subjected to things she wouldn’t have done to her worst enemy.

Mandy Smells of Rain

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

Mandy smells of rain when she cries. Teardrops fall from sky blue eyes and I splash in their puddles as I rush to comfort her. I have ruined many a pair of shoes this way, but I don’t care. She is not mine, though I wish the opposite were true and I am not the cause of her sorrow but I will be the earth beneath her, the foundation of support that absorbs her precipitation.

Laying Claim

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

A cool summer’s breeze carries with it something quite unexpected, a voice which calls me by a name I have not heard in centuries. As I turn, I am hit by a wave of pure magic that blows me off my feet and sends me hurling backward. Normally, I am immune to the effects of magic but my assailant somehow knows my birth name.

I lay on the ground powerless as a figure steps from the shadows. My sister, thought to be long dead, has come to take the throne.

Sealed With A Kiss

Posted by Madd_Fictional on

It wasn’t until Pauline slipped on a patch of black ice and suffered massive head trauma that she discovered the truth that we, everyone of us, were all blessed or cursed with a destiny, a role that must be fulfilled as part of the grand design of the universe. The fall unlocked a memory of being visited at a very young age by her guardian angel, who whispered her path into her tiny ear before pressing its genderless lips to her forehead, thus sealing her fate.

The Neglected Half

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“Gettin’ yersel’ a good education an’ havin’ a career is fine an’ all, but yer real purpose in life ista find yer udder half,” her sin-seanmháthair said.

“And I need this other half, do I, Nana? And what do you reckon happens to the half my supposed soulmate has no interest in, that he considers to be less than?” Niamh hadn’t meant to snap at her great-grandmother like that but her personal goals had always been so much grander than rushing into a relationship for fear of being alone. She wanted to be a full person, complete within herself and she refused to have half herself wither from neglect.