| Children Fiction posted December 9, 2024 |
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Just believe....
Christmas Magic
by Begin Again
The living room was dim, its only light coming from the glow of a small Christmas tree in the corner. The ornaments were sparse this year, and the star sat crooked at the top. Michael's parents sat at the kitchen table nearby, their hands wrapped around steaming cups of coffee, though neither seemed to notice the warmth.
"I don't even know why we put up the tree," Michael's mother, Sarah, murmured, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her cup. Her eyes were red-rimmed, a reflection of too many sleepless nights spent at her son's bedside. "He hasn't even looked at it."
"Because it's Christmas," her husband, Tom, replied quietly, though his tone lacked conviction. He rubbed a hand across his face, the tension of the last few months visible in every line and crease. "We're trying — for him."
"But it's not the same," Sarah whispered, her voice breaking. "I used to picture us around the tree, singing carols, opening gifts. Michael would be running circles around us, tearing into wrapping paper." She choked back a sob. "Now he can't even get out of bed."
Tom reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. "He's still here, Sarah. That's what matters."
Before she could respond, Michael's small voice called from his room, weak but insistent.
"Mom! Dad!"
They exchanged glances, exhaustion mirrored in their expressions, as they made their way to his room.
Michael lay propped up on pillows, his pale face lit by the glow of his nightlight. A small box of ornaments sat beside him — the ones Sarah had brought earlier that day to let him choose a few for the tree.
A tiny porcelain angel was in his hands, one wing broken clean off.
"Look what I found," Michael said, holding it out. His voice was raspy but filled with a childlike reverence. "It's the angel that grandma gave me."
Tom frowned. "I thought we threw that out."
"No!" Michael's cry was so sudden and forceful that it startled them both. Tears welled in his eyes as he clutched the angel tightly to his chest. "Don't throw her away."
"Buddy, it's broken," Tom said gently. "We can get you a new one. A better one."
"I don't want a new one," Michael said stubbornly, his lower lip trembling. He held the angel out toward his father. "Just fix it for me, Dad. I know you can do it."
Tom hesitated, caught between his son's pleading eyes and the hopelessness he felt in his own heart. Then he nodded, taking the ornament carefully from Michael's small hands. "Alright. I'll fix it."
Michael's tears stopped, and a faint smile crossed his lips. "Thanks, Dad."
Sarah watched from the doorway, her heart aching as she entered the room. She sat on the edge of Michael's bed and smoothed his tousled hair. "It's late, sweetheart. Let's read a little, and then you can rest."
"Okay," Michael agreed, leaning into her touch.
She picked up the worn Christmas storybook from the nightstand and began to read. Her voice softened as she reached the part about the lonely reindeer with the blue nose. She glanced at Michael, who was listening intently, his eyes sparkling with belief.
"And so, the little reindeer wished and wished for a friend, hoping someday he wouldn't feel so alone." She paused, her eyes lingering on Michael. "That's enough for tonight, sweetheart."
"Not yet, Mom. He has to find a friend so he can be happy."
"But he doesn't find one in this story, Mikey." She sighed, not knowing what to say.
"It's the Christmas season, and good things are supposed to happen. He's not asking for much — just a friend."
"It's late. Can we pretend the little reindeer met you, and you became his friend? That would be a wonderful ending, right?"
The little boy smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I would love to be his friend."
His mother hugged him and opened the book again. She smiled at her son and pretended to read —
"And suddenly, out of nowhere, a little boy appeared. He smiled at the little reindeer and said, "I like your blue nose. It's my favorite color." The boy moved closer and touched the tiny deer's head before he said, "My name is Michael. Would you like to be my friend?"
The tiny deer danced and pranced all around and said, "Yes, I wished for a friend, and now you are here. It's the best gift of all."
Michael's mother smiled and finished the story by saying, "And they all lived happily ever after."
When she ended the story, Sarah leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Goodnight, my angel," she whispered.
His father, seated nearby with glue still drying on his fingers, gently picked up the ornament. "There. All fixed." He placed the angel back on the nightstand. He squeezed Michael's hand. "Sweet dreams, buddy."
"Thank you, Daddy," Michael murmured, his eyelids heavy.
"We'll be right outside if you need us," his mother said softly, brushing his forehead with a kiss before they left the room.
As they left the room, Sarah looked back one last time. Michael's breathing was already steady, the storybook clutched in his arms, and the angel ornament gleamed faintly in the dim light.
"What if this is his last Christmas, Tom?" she whispered, her voice barely audible as they stepped into the hallway.
Tom pulled her into his arms, though he didn't have an answer. Instead, they stood there, holding onto each other, while snow began to fall softly outside.
*****
Michael's fingers curled around the edges of the storybook as he drifted toward sleep.
Then, a voice, delicate as a snowflake, called his name. "Michael?"
His eyes fluttered open. The glow of his nightlight cast soft shadows on the walls, and on the nightstand, the angel stood upright, her mended wing shimmering.
"Michael," she repeated, stepping closer. "Thank you for asking your father to mend my wing. It's whole again, thanks to you."
Michael blinked in disbelief. "You — you can talk?"
The angel's porcelain face seemed to radiate a kind smile. "Only to those who believe. And you, Michael, believe with all your heart."
He hesitated, then nodded. "I do."
The angel fluttered her wings, their soft hum filling the room with a golden light. "Because of your belief, I can grant you one wish. Anything you wish."
Michael thought for a long moment. His eyes drifted to the storybook on his lap. "Can you find a friend for the reindeer with the blue nose?"
The angel's wings stilled, her expression shifting to one of surprise. "You could have wished for anything, yet you wish for the happiness of another?"
Michael shrugged, his thin shoulders rising under the blankets. "The reindeer was so lonely."
The angel nodded solemnly. "I can help him, but I'll need your help, too."
Michael frowned. "I'm too sick. I can't even get out of bed."
The angel reached out, and her tiny hand glowed as it touched his. "Believe in me, Michael, as I believe in you. Let's try together."
With her encouragement, Michael swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His limbs trembled, and his breath came in shallow gasps. But warmth flowed from her touch, and with a trembling resolve, he stood, gripping the storybook.
"You're doing it!" the angel cheered. "Now, close your eyes and imagine the reindeer. Picture him waiting for his friend."
Michael shut his eyes, holding the image in his mind — the snowy woods, the shimmering light of the reindeer's blue nose. The sound of crunching snow filled his ears, and when he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his room.
He stood in a winter wonderland, snowflakes spiraling lazily from the sky. Frost-covered trees sparkled under a pale moonlight. In the distance, the reindeer stood alone, his blue nose glowing softly against the snowy backdrop.
The reindeer looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. "Who — are you?"
Michael laughed, tears pricking his eyes as he ran forward. "My name's Michael. What's yours?"
The little reindeer answered hesitantly, "I — I don't have one. Nobody's ever given me a name."
Michael beamed and said, "Well, how about Lumi? It's special, just like you."
The reindeer lowered his glowing nose, nuzzling Michael's hand. "Thank you." His nose sparkled even brighter, and he danced with joy. "I love it! Lumi — I'm Lumi!"
"Yup! And we'll be friends if that's alright with you."
Lumi danced and pranced before saying, "I'd love to be your friend." His nose turned brighter than ever as he exclaimed, "Wishes do come true."
"They do! The angel told me we just had to believe."
The angel watched from above, her wings shimmering with satisfaction as Michael and the reindeer played, their laughter ringing out like bells in the frosty air.
*****
When the first rays of dawn crept through the curtains, Michael woke in his bed, the storybook clutched tightly to his chest. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes bright, and for the first time in weeks, he felt strong.
His parents entered the room, and their expressions froze in shock.
"Michael?" his mother gasped. "You're sitting up!"
His father's voice was filled with disbelief. "How? That's — that's not possible!"
Michael grinned, his face glowing with an innocence that warmed the room. "It's easy," he said, holding up the angel ornament. "You just have to believe."
Before they could respond, jingling bells echoed faintly through the air, and soft, sparkling snow drifted from the ceiling, vanishing before it touched the ground. The angel's wings shimmered brightly, casting rainbows around the room.
His mother sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "Michael — is this real?"
He nodded, hugging the storybook to his chest. "It's real, Mama. Magic is everywhere if you just believe."
The first snow of Christmas morning began to fall outside the window, blanketing the world in a shimmering white glow. The warmth of faith and love filled the room, more radiant than the sun itself.
And on the nightstand, the angel sat quietly, her mission complete.
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