Token Of Christmas Cheer

A man shuffled down a city block, ringing doorbells. His spirit motivated by optimism.

With mounting rejections, hopelessness soon took over. He had an inkling of what they were thinking: another solicitor, begging on behalf of a charity. He would prove otherwise if given a chance.

Last house. He paused. Should he ring? A smiling child waved through the picture window. The front door opened. A woman appeared.

“Sorry, I have little cash,” she said, noting his disheveled appearance.

He left with a bag of festive cookies gifted by her; a token of appreciation for his shoveling of her walkways.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She is based in Edmonton, Canada.

A Christmas Present

It was Christmas. I saw a 7- or 8-year-old boy wearing a man's overcoat that covered him from neck to toe. The sleeves of the coat were cut short haphazardly to match the boy's arm length. I went to the nearby shop. As I had a son of the same age, I knew the size. I bought a nice pair of clothes, with a matching overcoat. Wearing Santa's hat, I went back and gave new clothes to the boy. The unexpected joy on his face thrilled me. Unplanned charity brings a strange sense of contentment that money can never buy.

From Guest Contributor Thriveni C. Mysore.