home > articles > Short Story: Christmas Eve with Tamonash

Christmas Eve with Tamonash
A Short Story Submission by
Brenda Robson

For my brother Gordon, who lives the theme everyday.

Alastair Cromwell rushed to the fighting women. Bing Crosby’s baritone-infused White Christmas filled Cromwell’s department store. Alastair cringed at every note. He seethed at every image the old song evoked.

“What’s the problem here?”

Alastair wasn’t surprised to find that Anna Bates was one of the women involved in the argument. She had been a pain in his behind for years, always returning items to the store, always complaining about one of his staff members or about waiting in line too long.

“She took Tiny Twinkle right out of my cart,” the other woman said in a loud, clear voice. Anna clutched the doll to her chest.“It’s the last one in town, Alastair. I have to have it.”

“Mrs. Bates, that does not give you the right to take this customer’s doll. Please, give it back.” Alastair struggled to saturate his voice with patience, but inside, he could feel heat in his face, being pumped from the furnace in his chest. He had another one of these dolls in his basement, but he wouldn’t get it for this troublemaker. “I’ll order more of these dolls in for the New Year.” He wanted her to leave. He wasn’t in the mood for Anna Bates tonight.

She crossed her arms against her chest and sighed and shook her head, an action threatening to release the neatly-piled black-gray hair on top of her head, an action that Alastair had seen so many times before. She pursed her lips tightly and put the doll back in the other woman’s cart.

“The New Year isn’t good enough Alastair. I need it for Christmas, tomorrow.” She turned and walked to the door. As she opened it, she issued a “Merry Christmas” saturated with sarcasm. “Your father would have gotten me the doll. This store hasn’t been the same since he died.”

For once, Alastair agreed with Anna Bates. When his father had had the store, he extended so much credit, that often he was never repaid. Alastair stopped that foolish practice soon after he had taken over.

Alastair apologized to the inconvenienced customer. He wished her a plastic “Merry Christmas” and returned to his office, glad to get out of the crowded store, away from the frenzy that was Christmas Eve.

Later at home, Alastair stoked the growing fire, thankful that the day was over and he had a couple of days away from the store. Christmas Eve, he thought, a time for good will and glad tidings. What a crock! Bah humbug! More like a time for greed and overabundance, and fighting. He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands along the soft burgundy leather of its arms. Tonight, it felt like an old friend. Stella and Ernie sat by his feet. “I guess you two need a walk.” The shelties recognized the “w” word. Stella ran to the back door, and Ernie tapped his paw along Alastair’s leg. Both panted with delight. Alastair smiled and thanked the universe for the creation of animals: Creatures that didn’t know the dark tinges of greed, malice, or disloyalty. With all their attributes, animals could surely be defined as true friends. Alastair got up and headed for the back door, but realized he had left their leashes on the hook outside the garage. “Be right back, guys.” Alastair went to the front door.

The cold air bit Alastair’s nose with steel teeth. “Brrr.” He ran to the garage door, grabbed the leashes, turned, and stopped, frozen, as the snowbank along the road caught his attention. It glowed with a multitude of colors: Purples, blues, violets, reds, pinks, yellows, all taking turns dancing on each minute slope and chunk of the snowbank, like the fiber optic trees in Alastair’s store, only much slower, but with the same synchronicity.

At first, Alastair thought it was the reflection of the Christmas lights from the house next door, bouncing off of every twist and turn of the individual snowflakes, an unusual display, and one only explainable by someone well versed in physics. He shook his head. He never could understand physics, and he tried to convince himself that only science could explain the mesmerizing snow bank. He wished it would go away, wished that the people next door would turn off their Christmas lights. He walked up the icy, slippery steps.

“Alastair.”

Alastair turned toward the road, trying to ignore the scientific phenomena going on before him. He could see no one. “Hello?” he shouted into the dark, icy night air.

“Alastair. Alastair Cromwell.” The voice came from behind the snowbank.
Annoyed and relieved at the same time, he walked back to the driveway. It was probably that Jenkins kid having some fun. Alastair had to admit, he had done a good job with the snowbank. “Come out from there!” he shouted. “Don’t you have anything better to do tonight than to bug me?” Alastair could feel heat wash the dead cold from his face. “Just wait until I …. What the …?” No one could orchestrate what Alastair witnessed going on before him.
The multi-colored lights in the snow bank stopped dancing. They all came together and formed a single rising cone of different colors, hovering over the snow bank. It seemed to Alastair that every single light took turns orbiting the cone, like electrons around their atom’s nucleus. Alastair stared in disbelief. This just can’t be happening. The tiny lights stopped their motion and all came together to form the outline of a body and head, like the shape of a crude child-drawn ghost. “Alastair Cromwell.”

This is not happening, Alastair thought. He wondered about the side effects of his new diabetes medication, metformin. Were hallucinations one of them? Alastair, now fearing for his health, headed back to his house.
“Alastair Cromwell!” The voice came from the floating lights.

Alastair shook his head and continued to his front door, intending to go directly to the hospital.

“Alastair Cromwell! There is nothing wrong with your health! I am here for your soul.”

Alastair was just about to open his front door, but the twinkling form suddenly appeared right before him. He found himself staring into a pair of eyes that sat deep within the crude outline of the head. Alastair was struck with these eyes, and at that moment, he realized this was not a hallucination. They were blue, as blue and sparkling as clear ocean water reflecting bright sunshine. That brightness held intelligence, and Alastair felt that this being held all the knowledge of the centuries.

“Am I dead?” he asked the creature, believing then that it was some angel sent to scoop his spirit from this humble earth.

“You are still alive.” The lights started to shift again, changing until the creature was only a white glow. It still maintained the outline of a head and body, the intent eyes never changing.

“Then what are you? Why are you here?”

“I am called Tamonash. I am a spirit from another dimension and time. My visit here is for the salvation of your soul.”

“What? What do you mean?” Alastair felt confusion, even anger, but never fear. He noticed that he was no longer cold. Tamonash emanated warmth that enveloped him from the bitter night air.

“You will see.” The glowing figure raised a shadowy arm from its floating form. “Come, Alastair Cromwell. We will start with tomorrow, Christmas Day of this year.”

Alastair reluctantly touched the outstretched appendage. When Alastair opened his eyes, he was in a living room he hadn’t been in since he was a child. A Christmas tree sat in one corner, beside the fireplace, covered in small stuffed teddy bears and multi-colored mini lights. The whimsical decoration was in stark contrast to the Victorian décor, and Alastair wondered why Anna Bates would decorate a tree like that.

“Aunt Anna?” a small frail voice called out from the sofa.

A little girl, around 7 or 8, lay on the rose-colored piece of furniture. She was thin to the point of skeletal, with dark clouds floating around her eyes.
“Merry Christmas Ashley!” Anna Bates came into the room, wearing a vibrant smile. “Were you warm enough last night, dear?”

The child shook her head yes; the motion seemed to cause her great effort. “Did Santa come?” Hope fought with despair in her eyes.

“Of course he did!” Anna went over to the tree and retrieved a package from underneath it. “Here you go, dear.”

The poor child tried sitting up, but only managed to lean against the armrest. She opened the box with excitement. “He didn’t bring me Tiny Twinkle, Aunt Anna.”

The disappointment in her voice scratched at Alastair’s heart, and he hung his head as he listened to Anna Bates scramble for excuses as to why Santa, who could do anything for children, couldn’t bring this sick little child what she wanted. “Will she get better, Tamonash?”

“No, she will not. This child has an acute form of leukemia. She isn’t expected to see the spring.”

“If I had only known…”

“But you can not know, Alastair. You can never fully know what goes on in other’s lives, what drives them to do what they do. This woman here, who is demanding and hard to please, has raised thousands of dollars for local cancer charities, driven by the loss of her husband to this disease, and now she faces that loss again.”

Both the spirit and Alastair watched the child as disappointment filtered through her features. The spirit raised its shadowy arm again, inviting Alastair to touch it.

“Are we going back to the store for the doll?” Alastair asked.

Darts of gold shot through Tamonash’s crystal-blue eyes. “Alastair Cromwell, the purpose of my visit is not that simple.” He raised his arm again. “Come. We are going back twenty years in this dimension.”

This time the journey was different and longer. It was the first time Alastair felt fear since being in the spirit’s company, and he wondered if he would ever again know his life as before. Alastair felt as if he had jumped off a high precipice and was falling to what waited below, only he was going in slow motion. His surroundings were black, making Tamonash glow even more. To Alastair’s horror, faces of people would pop up along the way. Some of them appeared in agony, while others appeared happy and at peace. Alastair couldn’t wait for this journey to end. Finally, it did, and the pair ended up in the kitchen of a house. People sat at the table. As Alastair oriented himself, he recognized one of them. The embers of anger, whose fire had gone out years ago, flared up again.

“Tamonash! That’s Bob Freeling. Why bring me here?” Anger soon gave way to a pain that Alastair thought was dead and buried.

“You were once friends with this man, Alastair.”

“Friends! A friend you can trust!” Anger drowned out any remnants of pain Alastair felt.

Tamonash raised his shadowy appendage. This time, Alastair could make out a hand at the end of it. “Listen, Alastair.”

“We can call up CKOC-TV. People are very generous when disasters happen to others,” Bob Freeling said.

Alastair’s head swung toward the glowing spirit. Again, Tamonash raised his hand and pointed to the people sitting around the table.

“That’s a great idea, Bob! We have to get him out of this mess anyway we can,” said Pete Fogerty. “My store collected a lot from the town, thanks to your campaigning Bob, but it won’t rebuild Alastair’s store.”

“I’ll call them in the morning.” Bob wrote something down on a piece of paper. He smiled brightly. “Turcotte Painting promised a couple of thousand. I’ll get in touch with them too, give them a little push, so that we can get that money to Alastair.”

Alastair stared at Bob Freeling. He had never known who had been responsible for the fundraising that saved his family’s store and his own career. No one in town would tell him. He felt confused. Why would Bob do that after what had happened between the two of them? As Bob was writing on the pad, a woman entered the kitchen. Alastair jumped along with his heart. “Evelyn.” He was surprised to find that she could still take his breath away. He stared at her, admiring her perfectly-sculpted features, smooth porcelain ivory skin, and long, shiny black hair. She kissed Bob on the cheek and Alastair cringed. “Take me away from here spirit!”

“You never saw beyond that, did you Alastair?”

Alastair looked at the glowing being.

“Her beauty. Did you ever look deep enough past her perfect face to see the woman who lay beneath?”

Alastair looked back at Evelyn, now smiling as she scanned the pad in front of Bob. He couldn’t even remember what her favorite color was or what she took in her coffee. He hung his head in shame.

“Bob Freeling saw beyond that. He saw Evelyn’s lovely spirit.”

Pain stabbed Alastair’s heart, as though it were yesterday that she had left him for his best friend.

“They married and are living a happy life.”

“I know they married.” Alastair swallowed hard and for the first time felt a twinge of happiness for them. “I just never would have guessed that it was Bob who saved my store.”

“Many people did that, Alastair.”

“But Bob organized it. When the store burned down after Dad had died I thought my life was over. Mom forgot to pay the insurance; that was the start of her Alzheimer’s. If it weren’t for those donations, I don’t know what I’d be doing now.” Alastair watched Bob Freeling. He felt overwhelmed with gratitude and respect. He wondered what Bob was doing now. He wondered how he was. He wondered how Evelyn was. Shame filled his soul as he remembered a day last July when he had been approached for a donation for the Thompson family. They had lost their home to a fire and had no insurance. He had promised the young boy he would send a cheque to the bank collecting donations. He never did. In fact, he had put it right out of his mind the minute the boy had left his office.

Tamonash raised his arm for Alastair to touch it. “Into the future again, Alastair.”

Alastair touched the shadowy arm and closed his eyes in anticipation of the long dark journey.

“Open your eyes, Alastair.”

Alastair was expecting to still be in Bob Freeling’s kitchen, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself inside Wilkens, Bayberry Falls funeral home. The realization of where he was quickly made him forget how fast this last journey had been. They were in the chapel, where both his mother and father had had their services. He looked at the coffin, expecting to see one of them; however, the vision there made Alastair stumble backward.

Tamonash! What is this?”

“It is your future, Alastair.”

Alastair stared at the vision of himself in the coffin. Memories of his parents’ services flooded his brain, but there was something different. Alastair looked at the pews; their emptiness reached out and punched him in the gut. “Where is everyone?”

“There are some here, Alastair.”

That was true. There were some people there, but it was nothing like the crowd that had jammed the modest chapel at both of his parents’ funerals. Alastair drew in a deep breath, hoping that the rush of air would fill the emptiness that pervaded his soul. “I was always impressed with how many people had come to Mom and Dad’s services. I felt so proud to be their son.”
“Jim and Freda Cromwell were good, respected people,” Tamonash said.
“They did a lot for this town.”

“And it was appreciated, Alastair. All good deeds bring their reward.”

“People don’t appreciate…” Alastair stopped, the emptiness of the chapel drumming on his subconscious. He hung his head, the shadow of shame wrapped around him. “Tamonash?”

“Yes, Alastair.”

“I now understand the purpose of your visit. Is it too late? Is this the present? Am I already dead?”

“As I have said, Alastair, we are in the future. In the world such as you know it, it is still Christmas Eve 2005.”

Alastair smiled, feeling the despair drain from his face. He felt happiness, an old emotion that had become a stranger. “Can we go back to the store?”
Tamonash nodded and raised his glowing arm to signal the last trip the pair would make together. As with the last trip through time, this one was fast and smooth, and as before, Alastair was thankful he didn’t have to travel through that frightful darkness. In what seemed like two seconds, Tamonash and Alastair were standing inside Cromwell’s Department Store.

Alastair knew he didn’t have to tell the spirit he wanted to return to the store to get Tiny Twinkle. Tamonash would know, like he knew everything.

“You are making two people very happy, Alastair.”

“I should have given her the doll before.”

“You’re getting it for her now, Alastair. That is what is important.” The outline of the white amorphous glow began to fade. “Do not forget, Alastair. Through all the dISSENSION and aNIMOSITY, remember to be a good generous human being. Do not let these ever-present, superficial entities ruin you. ” Only a shadow now remained of the spirit.

“Thanks Tamonash,” Alastair whispered before he was standing by himself in the store.

By: Brenda Robson

: top :