Fiction

Half a cupcake for Christmas.


He crammed the half cupcake in his mouth and chewed with almost an unnatural frustration, his anger pronounced in each and every movement. He knew it was the only bit of food he was going to get that night and yet he did not know why it made him so angry. Perhaps it was the laughter he could hear from inside the house. The house outside which he was camped, huddled in his worn out jacket and the moth-eaten blanket an old lady had given him last week. The house which reminded him, oddly, of his mother. Not that they ever owned a house that big. He snorted in derision as he heard the young boy, no older than he was, refuse a second helping of pie.
It was unfair, he thought. He looked up at the sky, drenched with a December fog and looked around the street as happy couples and family walked by, almost all of them bearing gifts. No one noticed him, small and bundled, shivering and alone. Not that he minded. He was extremely worried that someone might recognise him and send him back to that horrid man who had ‘adopted’ him. He hated it there. The man-made him do all the housework and fed him almost nothing. Hell, he was better off begging. Sometimes, he’d miss his bed though. At least he’d have been warm and hungry, instead of being cold as well as hungry. Christmas was always hard. Somehow it made him miss his mother even more. She had always made it a point to get him something every year, so that he didn’t feel left out. It didn’t matter that they didn’t have the biggest pot roast or the largest pie. Nor did it matter that they could never afford new clothes. At least they were together and they each had a wrapped box in front of them. A pen, a notebook, an old paperback; the little tokens she had given him made his heart ache. All was lost. Except for the cheap toy car in his pocket, he had no personal belongings. Even his clothes were given to him by the people at the orphanage which had taken him up after the fire took away his mother and home.
He slowly brushed away his tears and felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the woman of the house staring at him, in pity. In her hand, she held a plate full of food. “It’s Christmas. You shouldn’t be out here, cold. Come on in.”, she said.
He stood, wordlessly, stared at her and something in him snapped. He fell back against the fence and slid to the floor and cried. The world stood still and stared as a little boy sat on the sidewalk and poured out his heart, in tears, while a woman sat by his side, cooing words of comfort.

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2 thoughts on “Half a cupcake for Christmas.

  1. I’ve been reading your posts, yet I’ve never left a comment, mainly because I am almost always left in awe after reading them and as a result fall short of words.
    Not that this post is any less, I had to start somewhere and had to let you know that I absolutely love your posts. I’ve always looked up to you and will in the future. Keep writing. Stay blessed.

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