Silver James

It’s Wednesday and that means words. Today’s prompt comes only from #ThursdayThreads…for reasons. Our inspiration is “I’m on my way.” That led to 250 words and the barest bones of what’s below. As promised, here’s a free Christmas story that’s become something of an annual thing for me. I hope you take a moment to put your feet up, sip your beverage of choice, and enjoy. And I hope my coding-foo worked and the bult of the tale is behind a clickable link that will simply expand the post–no having to find another page or document. We’ll see. 🤞🏼

🎄🎄

Lochlan O’Toole was not a sentimental man. Loyal, yes. Responsible, certainly. A trained soldier, absolutely. He believed in brotherhood—and that included sisters-in-arms. He occupied a stool at the end of the bar located inside the iconic Key West watering hole, Mother Goose’s Bar.

Bear, a giant ginger of a man, swiped a sweat ring off the bar with a towel. When a waitress appeared, Bear took her order, filled it, placing the drinks and bottles of beer on her tray. Still, Loch knew the big man’s attention remained focused on him.

“Wanna talk?”

Loch sat up a little straighter and stared at Bear. “Do what now?”

“Do ya wanna talk?”

“T’you?”

“Yup.” Bear lifted his shoulders in a negligent shrug then pulled another Guinness from the tap and placed it in front of the Irishman, complete with a perfect shamrock drawn in the foam.

“Gettin’ fancy, aint’cha?”

Grinning, Bear nodded. “Tis the season. Plus, I’m still working on my holly leaves.”

Taking a sip, Loch swallowed. “I’m good, Bear. Truly.”

“If you say so. Change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“Aye,” Loch agreed. He knew Bear had a cottage tucked back on a side street not far from the bar but he doubted the man spent much time there. Like Loch, Oswald “Bear” Berwyn was a Wolf. They didn’t need much sleep. In addition to being chief bartender, bottle washer, and bouncer for Mother’s place, he was also the woman’s XO—executive officer. Mother Goose ran a deep Black Ops team. The bar was a cover and it worked well enough.

A group of college girls spilled in through the door, giggling and stumbling their way to an empty table. Single males scattered around the bar perked up.

“Aye, an’ there’s trouble brewin’ in the pot.” Loch said after noticing that one of those males was Dalton Thomas, a member of the Hard Target team.

More people sauntered in and the place got crowded. Loch caught Bear’s attention. “D’ya need me behind the bar?”

Bear shook his head. “I’ll draft Dalton if I need help. Where you off to?”

“Gonna find some fresh air.”

He left the bar and joined the throngs of people crowding the sidewalks and streets. Festive lights twinkled on every building and Christmas wreaths, swags, and decor festooned doors and windows.

Loch didn’t hate Christmas. Truly he didn’t. His childhood in Ireland had been filled with family and traditions of the season. Then he’d gone off to military and the trips home for the holidays grew fewer and father between. Now, when this time of year rolled around, melancholy raised its head. Perhaps it was living in Key West. Current temperature a balmy 25 degrees. Celsius. Or 77 Fahrenheit to his Hard Target teammates. Tourists flocked to the area for the weather and the ambiance.

As it happened, Christmas was a grand thing in Key West Everything was covered in lights—buildings, houses, trees. Even the boats in the harbor. There were walking tours and trolley tours to see all the decorations. Far different from frigid temperatures yet cozy celebrations of his childhood. Not that he missed the chill in the air or the fragrance of peat smoke on the wind. Or so he told himself.

This year, though, he just wasn’t feeling it. On a rare surge of optimism, he hopped on one of the decorated trolleys and rode it down to the harbor. If he remembered correctly, there’d be a boat parade tonight.

Sure enough, the docks and wharfs were packed with participants and tourists alike. Christmas music coming from myriad locations clashed with different songs creating a cacophony that hurt his ears. He turned on his heel and walked away.

There were too many people but he didn’t really want to be alone. What was a Wolf to do? He decided to head to a secluded beach for some lone wolf time. So that’s what he did. He found a sheltered place where he could hide his clothes so he stripped, stashed, and shifted. The sand was warm and felt good under his paws. He loped up the beach, chasing the waves as they curled on shore. He woofed and even howled once—not in frustration but in freedom.

His wolf didn’t understand melancholy. To his animal half, if you were unhappy you killed it, ate it, or played with it. After an hour of dancing in the sea foam, and still in wolf form, he dug out a wallow in the sand and settled in for a snooze.

About to drop off, he froze when something touched his tail. Opening his eyes to mere slits, the wolf checked around them. There it was again. Something small, hesitant. He raised his head as he flicked his tail. A tiny form covered in black fur somersaulted in the air and landed a few feet away. He growled. The thing bared tiny teeth and hissed. He stretched his muzzle to get a sniff and wuffled. The kitten meowed.

The wolf froze. The man inside? He bloody well hated cats now didn’t he.

The kitten stalked toward him. The wolf watched. The kitten batted his tail and looked expectant. He flicked it. The kitten somersaulted again and then pounced, twisting and turning all the while attacking his tail like it was some ferocious prey.

Bugger this, Loch thought, the man surfacing. The wolf agreed but wasn’t quite ready to relinquish control. Nosing the kitten off his tail, the wolf rose, stretched and in one quick stab, grabbed the bit of fluff by the scruff of its neck. The wolf padded down the beach, carrying the kitten in its mouth. Up ahead, a group of people sat around a bonfire on the beach. The wolf deposited the kitten and nosed it in their direction.

The floof didn’t move. He nosed it harder. The kitten protested with a loud yowl. That drew the attention of the humans. Two of the males rose and pointed. A female yelled and threw a beer bottle at him. Her aim was off so he moved to deflect it from the cat. The three started toward him so he turned tail and took off. Once he was back in the shadows, he watched as they surrounded the kitten and the female gathered it in her arms.

Duty done, he padded back to his wallow in the sand. It was a nice night. Quiet. Lots of stars, enough of a breeze off the Gulf to keep the air cool, relatively speaking. He’d just sleep here until just before dawn. Then he would shift, dress, and return to humanity. Continue reading →