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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Distances” Down in the Dirt v213 (11/23) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Instant Karma the Down in the Dirt September-December 2023 issues collection book		get the 422 page September-December 2023 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Christmastime In America

J L Higgs

    The syrupy rich smell of balsam and the soud of The Most Wonderful Time of the Yearfilled the renovated Old Mill. Now home to artists’ workshops and galleries, the pandemic had delayed its opening for over two years. But today, the Saturday before Christmas, it was packed with holiday shoppers; grandparents, teenagers, young couples, strollers, and small children clinging to balloons, riding upon their father’s shoulders.
    On the building’s upper level, Malcolm nodded to the armed security guard beside a display window with a model train chugging around a miniature village, puffing smoke. Despite the braided handles of the overstuffed shopping bags cutting into his fingers, he was in good spirits.
    At the tree lighting on the town green, he’d sung Christmas Carols played by the high school band. That, and other holiday traditions like The Nutcracker and Messiah sing-alongs, had resumed. Young people once again played hockey on frozen ponds and football in snow-covered fields before returning home to mugs of hot cocoa topped with marshmallows. Sleigh bells, twinkling lights, snowflakes, and miniature Christmas trees were everywhere.
    Only now did he realize how much he’d missed all those things. And like most Americans, he was glad the pandemic had ended, and things were returning to normal.
    A booming Ho Ho HO, Merry Christmas from below, announced that Santa had arrived. With children following at his heels, he waved and called out holiday greetings as he made his way toward the first floor atrium.
    Seeing an old woman approaching him using a walker, Malcolm stepped aside. The young woman with her wearing reindeer antlers smiled and wished him a Merry Christmas.
    The Twelve Days of Christmas began to play just as Malcolm looked up at the mill’s glass-topped atrium. Above the rooftop dome, he saw a tranquil, star-filled nighttime sky. Christmas was such a wonderful time of year he found himself wondering, what if things changed and the Christmas spirit existed all year long?
    Suddenly, there was a loud bang! Malcolm immediately ducked, his eyes searching for safety. Instead, they landed on a small boy holding the limp remains of a popped balloon, and a man wearing a Santa hat, kneeling beside him.
    Breathing a sigh of relief, Malcolm began making his way past the children clinging to the handrail, hoping for a glimpse of jolly old Saint Nick. Below him, the children who’d followed Santa to the atrium crowded around him, eager to see what was in his sack.
    The first barrage of shots from the AK-47 ripped apart the children closest to him, splattering their blood in all directions. Shouting HO, HO, HO, and Merry Christmas, the Santa released another fusillade, spraying bullets in a sweeping arc. People scrambled as the upper level balusters shattered. Its supports collapsed, and those trapped along the railing plummeted downward. The woman with the walker got knocked down. Some others were trampled in the melee.
    A man on the lower level drew a handgun, and two other men immediately began grappling with him. Thunderous blasts roared from the automatic weapon as the gunman shot all three dead.
    With the air full of acrid smoke, the shooting suddenly stopped. The cries of the wounded and dying could be heard against the beloved strains of Silent Night.
    As the gun’s empty magazines struck the floor, beside Malcolm, the security guard, his weapon in hand, fired twice. Struck mid-chest, the gunman staggered backward but continued reloading. Then, laughing, he yanked open the front of the Santa suit, revealing a Kevlar vest.
    The gunman squeezed his weapon’s trigger just as the guard took aim. Bullets cut him in half. A hammering blow shattered Malcolm’s skull, and his life slipped away to “sleep in heavenly peace.”

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