A Christmas Miracle [Flash Fiction]

A Christmas Miracle

A Short Story (Flash Fiction)

by CJ Heck

It was December, during what would be forever called, "The Great Depression". 

The blizzard had begun last night just after dark with gentle flurries. Now in the early hours before dawn, it was snowing like a son-of-a-bitch.

Jake Simons pulled his coat collar up as high as it would go, hoping to shrink the opening so it was less inviting to wayward flakes. "Never mind," he thought with a sigh, "just never you mind. It's winter and it's snowing.  It is what it is."

This morning, like every morning, snow or no snow, Jake walked the tracks, picking up rogue coal   that escaped from railroad cars as they bounced along the tracks. They couldn't buy food, but each shiny black nugget was precious and went a long way to keep his family warm.  These were tough times.  The snow only served to punctuate just how bad things were -- and how much worse they could still get.

Jake plodded on, pushing the snow aside with his foot.  Coal was already nearly impossible to see in the dark and the snow made it even harder to find.  With each step, he grew more despondent, knowing his pockets were almost empty and probably would stay that way. How in the world had things ever gotten so bad?

Only days before Christmas, Jake still hadn't found any work. "Children shouldn't have to grow up this fast." Jake said aloud into the darkness, the wind gobbling each word as it was spoken. "In their innocent dreams, Santa is up in the North Pole and his elves are making toys to deliver in a sleigh on Christmas Eve -- even now in the worst of times."

Jake's oldest delivered groceries and stocked shelves for Burt down at the market on Tuesdays.  The middle child, Tommy, had a paper route. Even his wife worked one day a week cleaning for the Parkers.  Jeb Parker owned the mill.  He did what he could, hiring men for a day here, a day there, but few could afford what the mill produced, so even Jeb was on hard times.

And Sarah, sweet little Sarah.  She was only two years old. Hardship was all she had ever known. How he wished he could make everything better for her -- for all of them.

Hours later, Jake had reached his lowest point yet. It was dark again and snowing even harder, if that was even possible. All day, Jake had stood in the growing lines for the few jobs that were available -- there were always more men than jobs.

Overcome by exhaustion and grief, he sat down hard on the curb, his feet planted in the freezing slush.  With his head in his hands, he felt a growing resolve to end it all. Jake's spirit was broken and he finally recognized complete and utter defeat.  

Blinking through his tears, he prayed for his immortal soul. "God, please help me. To those I love, I'm worth more dead, than alive.  Please give me the courage to do what I have to do."  

Then, pointing his revolver at the roof of his mouth, he humbly lowered his head. That's when he saw something sticking out of the slush between his feet. He lowered the gun and placed it on the curb beside him.  Then in quiet disbelief, he slowly reached down and picked up a soggy, crumpled fifty dollar bill ... his prayer had been answered.