Timed Prompt and Post Script

It was Christmas Eve, fog stuck to the tarmac at Lindbergh Field. I was waiting for a man with a red baseball cap. I never knew his name, never saw his face, all I knew him by was that red cap.

I hate being out so late, the cold winter stung your cheeks and and froze your breath, not to mention being alone at night is where most people die in horror movies. That was a big part of it too.

A few minutes ticked by and I was getting nervous. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye a splotch of red appeared in the endless sea of grey mist. He was here.

I swallowed, my throat stinging from the icy air. He walked to me, the spot of red floating towards me, a phantom in the night. "Hello," I called, a crack to my voice breaking the syllables. I was granted no response, only red the bobbing forward. "You have what I asked for?"  Again, no response, but now footsteps could be heard, loud and heavy. Next, a white trash bag I could see in his hands. That was my answer.

Abruptly, he stopped just before the moon's glow could reveal his features, and plopped the bag before my feet. "Everything's here," he told me, "everything on the list."

"Oh, thank you very much!" I praised, a little shaky. "How much much do you want? I don't have much, but I promise I'll repay you-"

No need," the capped man said, "there is no charge."

I was in shock. "Thank you sir, thank you! You are a saint, truly! You are in my blessing, Mr...?"

He dove his hands into his coat pockets, and rose his chin. "Nick." He grinned. "Call me Nick." The man stepped back into fog and was gone, even the bright, red cap vanished in seconds.

The bag and myself were all that remained. I bent down and looked inside; it was filled with toys, toys for the kids. "Thank you, saint Nick. Thank you, and Merry Christmas."



Post Script:

In the article The Plot Sickens by Fanny Howe, Howe speaks of her writing assignment being the same one we used in class. Every student was giving the same first two sentences to work with and limited time to see what the the individuals could come up with. In result of Howe's prompt in her class, she came to the conclusion that most of the pieces written were dark and/or left with out resolution to the plot line. Another thing Howe mentioned was the lack of "heroism" to the protagonists, or in better words one could say "likability" to them. She then went on to express why she believed this to be as it was, saying that it due the cultural aspects of society today and how it is affecting young teens. However, reading this article in comparison to my own piece, I must say that my story very much goes against the points she makes in her article, not only resulting in a clear ending to what was happening with the mysterious entry, but also without violence or crude drama. So in conclusion, I would say that I do not see Howe's speculations as true to the extensive extremes she believes there to be.