All characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon. It is a Christmas story, therefore there are Christian themes. It is a good story, at least my friends think its nice, so enjoy.
Dashing Through the Snow
It was a cold December night, and the countdown to Christmas was on. Homes and businesses had a warm glow about them, as they were covered in decorations and colorful lights. Those who had fireplaces warmed them up and those with hot chocolate drank it up. People in the city seemed busy, yet cheerful if not a little stressed by the upcoming holiday. However, in the suburbs, nestled between two other warm homes, a house sat that seemed to be devoid of the Christmas spirit. It had the decorations like those around it, but it failed to admit the same glow.
This was not strange for this house for the family inside was always like this. It was the Membrane household; which would be put more correctly as the Dib and Gaz household, being their father was hardly ever there. Both siblings sat in the living room looking at the brightly colored tree. Dib was the one who normally decorated the house, being he wanted so much to have a normal Christmas again. Gaz glanced at the clock and then to her brother.
"Well, I'm going to bed," she said standing from her seat on the couch. Her brother watched her leave before turning back to the spruce.
"What a day," he said aloud to himself. He turned his gaze to the lights that blinked outside and smiled. He really loved this holiday, yet he despised it too. It hurt to watch other families enjoy their lives of love, joy and oneness, especially because it was out of his reach. His family had no time or love to give. Sometimes on Christmas morning, he would be the only one up who wanted to have a family gathering, but every time he was disappointed.
"You'd think I'd learn by now," he said softly to himself, "Gaz sure has." His sister would never get her hopes up for another Christmas again. He remembered the time when they were so little; the time after their mother died. It was Christmas Eve and all he could think of as a young child was Christmas morning. He and Gaz both had trouble going to sleep that night, no matter how hard the professor tried to get them to rest.
"I can't wait, I can't wait," he remembered saying. Gaz just smiled as both sat on his bed. It had been a short tradition that his mother kept; to allow him and his sister sleep in the same room on Christmas Eve. Dib figured that his father just wanted to do this too, at least one more time, for he never did it again after that year.
"Wha...u...wait for," his two-year-old sister asked.
"Santa is going ... he's going to bring a gift, I ... I asked for mommy come tomorrow."
He could never forget that hope; that childhood wish.
"Weally! Mama comey."
The toddler boy nodded with a grin.
"Buts we gots to go sleep, Santa won't come cause you gots to sleep."
With that, they finally slipped off into dreamland. The sound of the heater kicking on shook Dib out of his thoughts. He noticed he was crying and quickly wiped the tears away. He hated to cry, being he felt stupid and so vulnerable. He thought he was alone in his pain, but was wrong. Gaz stood at the top of the stairs looking down at her brother.
'Every year was the same,' she reflected, 'he always does this. He needs to let go of it.' As far back as she could remember he would always sit out here around Christmas, reflecting and mourning. She felt it as lucky that she had the ability to move on without their mother. Sure it hurt to think about, but it was in the past. Her brother on the other hand was very attached even though he was only three when they lost her. It made her angry to see him and hear his words echo throughout the house, as he had the habit of talking to himself. It wasn't so much that it kept her up at night, but it was disturbing for her to watch her older brother drowned in lost hope and wishes. She was, however startled when he started to punch the couch cushions and kick at the floor. Usually, she was in bed by the time Dib had his second reminiscence, so she had never seen him behave that way, except when he was really upset about Zim, but that's a whole different story.
"It's not fair. Why!" Dib exasperated. He remembered waking up that Christmas morning. He asked and wished his heart out. He could feel the agony all over again, as sobs began building in his throat.
"I didn't ask for candy or toys, I didn't want anything but... my mom."
Gaz could hear his wails.
"Not money...or presents, what am I doing," he whispered, "this is stupid."
The girl decided to leave to her room, before she started. The worst of this all was that she knew the feeling but would not feel it. Dib slumped to the floor, hoping that nobody heard that, but at the same time hoping someone did.
" I just want mom back," he whispered softly. Feeling sick to his stomach now, he stood up slowly and walked over to the lit Christmas tree and turned out its lights, plunging the room in a depressing darkness. The only light now came from the colorful, blinking bulbs outside. Even though it was only nine o'clock, he decided to go turn them off. What was odd to do was go outside to do this, for they had a switch on the inside to switch off the lights. However, opening the front door, Dib allowed the cold winter air to breeze in causing the pale boy to shiver. He stepped outside quickly in the snow and flipped the outside switch that turned the decorations off. He was freezing cold, but instead of running back into the warm house, he stood staring, his breath visible in the air. He looked at the other homes and let out a saddened sigh.
"Dib," a quiet voice said from behind him. The boy whirled around to see his sister standing there. Slightly ashamed that his eyes were red from crying, he turned a bit out of the light.
"Yes."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm just turning off the lights."
"Well, you're letting all the heat out, get inside," she said, turning and walking back in.
"Gaz..." Dib paused. He wanted to tell her about what he was thinking but didn't know how to say it.
"What," she asked in her regular annoyance.
"Sorry, never mind."
Grumbling, she went back. Dib turned once more to see the snowy scene then turned to go back in. The heat of the house stung his face and hands, but it felt good to be warm, even though he didn't feel that inside. Gaz went upstairs and into her room, and Dib decided it was a good idea to just go into his room and rest for the next day. Yet, when he reached the stairs a heaviness came upon his heart. Trying to ignore it he began climbing the stairs, but with each step, the heaviness grew. It was as if his heart was telling him to go back downstairs. The nagging grew so much that he just couldn't take it.
"Fine I'll go back down, jeez," he growled walking back to the foot of the stairs. "Now what!" He stood in the silent stairwell frustrated with himself and life in general. "I really am crazy," he confessed to the accusations his classmates had been making for years. However, before he could turn and go back, the sound of tapping from the living room stopped him. With that, his paranormal incentives kicked in, and hundreds of thoughts rushed through his mind to what it could be, completely erasing all the pain he was dwelling in at the moment. He crept up to the couch and glanced in the direction of the noise.
What he saw disappointed him. It was two Christmas bulbs tapping together. He walked over to the tree and stopped the clinking ordainment. He knew if his fellow students were here they would laugh at this incident, especially Zim. How much he hated that alien scum, but he knew one day he would expose Zim for whom he was, an alien. Then he could show everyone that he wasn't crazy and that he could do something right. He really wanted to prove it to his dad, maybe then he would pay more attention to him. The reality though is what hurt him the most.
"Even it I do expose Zim, will they care about me," was his quiet question. They didn't like him for who he was before Zim, why would they like him after. This topic always brought memories of teasing. Many had told him to give up on his paranormal fantasy and do what other children did.
"I can't...I'm different...why can't anyone understand," he stated as a tear rolled off his check. Suddenly a bulb from the tree fell and rolled under the table. Dib bent down and looked for the decoration in the dark living room. Knowing that this would get him nowhere he turned on the lights around the spruce. As he went on the search for the bulb again he thought about a troubling subject, his mother.
"She's the only reason why I celebrate this horrible holiday," he said coldly. Then he mentally slapped himself. How could he say such a thing? He loved this time of year.
"Then why does it hurt so much," he could hear himself unconsciously say. Grasping the Christmas ornament in his hand he studied it with blurred eyes. Its colorful reflection of the objects around it seemed to transfix him. It distorted everything in its round shape and tinting everything in red, including him. The lights of the tree danced on its surface as he twirled it in his hand. It wasn't till then he noticed something on the floor behind him. He would never have thought about it if it wasn't for this small decoration. Turning around he saw it in the dim lighting.
It was a small brown book, lying down next to the tree. Sure he had seen it before, in fact, he's the one who placed it there. It was hiding in the box that the decorations were in the first time he saw it. He would just put it back in the box year after year. He didn't bother to open it though, even though he had seen it several times. However he noticed now that it wasn't an old instruction manual or Christmas storybook, it was a scrapbook. Why he never saw this before he'll never know, but the Christmas bulb revealed this fact to him. Hooking the ornament back onto the tree, he swooped down and picked up the book. The pale boy walked over to the lamp that was in the shape of his father, the famous scientist, and clicked it on for more light. He opened the old binding and looked down at the yellowed-aged paper. It was a hand-written letter taped to the inside cover that caught his eye. As he began to read, his emotions began to stir once again.
Dear Lord,
Hold my family close to you. Help my husband who is lost to his work. I have tried everything to bring him back, but I know that you are in charge. I just can't take it anymore.
Many questions ran through the pale boy's head first of which was answered. Who wrote this? His mother. But what or who was she writing to? Was this really from his mom, or is it just some strange note in some strange book? He continued to read feeling curious as to what else was written.
Protect my children, guide them in what they do and help them through life Amen
Dib was utterly confused. What was this, a joke?
"No, it's a prayer," he said aloud to himself. Of course, he's never heard one at school or his home, but he had heard them in an array of different places, such as on TV and radio, not to mention on the streets. Looking down further on the note he noticed another paragraph. However, before he could read it the front door handle wiggled a little. He quickly placed the book in his trenchcoat, before it opened. The boy knew who it was, even though the room was dimly lit, for the man's white lab coat and familiar hair, not to mention his size. It was his dad. For some reason, the pale boy had the urge to hide, even though he knew well his father did not care how late he stayed up. Even though he felt silly, he ducked down, out of view, in front of the couch. He could hear the soft click of the door closing, and the footfalls of his dad's large boots heading towards him. Dib almost panicked, wondering how he would explain his behavior, but the professor passed right by him, heading for the tree.
"Dib, what am I going to do with you," Membrane breathed. The pale boy almost yelped. 'He must have seen me' he thought. However, his dad didn't seem to notice him as he turned off the tree lights. As the room was plunged back into darkness, Dib wondered if his dad had just made a statement without knowing he was there. The next statement proved this fact.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're my son at all," his father sighed. The boy nearly choked on his father's words. What kind of words were they, for a father to say of his child? Why had he said such a horrible thing? 'What did I do?' was the only thought left in Dib's mind. However sorrow soon changed to anger as he watched Professor Membrane make his way to the location of his basement lab.
"Sometimes, I wonder if your our dad," Dib retaliated to the empty room. No answer came, which didn't phase him, for he knew his dad was out of earshot. However, the fact he had no answer as to why his father would say that made him loss resolve.
"Maybe no one really does care," Dib sighed. Thoughts of how his classmates taunted him, memories of how adults looked down on his ideas and smothered his dreams. The mother he never really had, the father who wasn't there. Why was he treated this way? He was human too, with feelings, wants, and needs. However, he was singled out as being different somehow. He honestly tried to fit in for a while, but it was like he had a disease no one wanted. The only one who would at least tolerate him was his sister and even she never paid much attention to him, then most of the time she wouldn't want him near her. He wondered if the reason his dad stayed away from home was because of him. He knew it was an absurd thought, but it seemed so reasonable to his pain riddled mind. He tried to keep it together. One day he would show them, he would show them all that he could be somebody.
When I become a famous paranormal investigator and expose Zim... they'll finally thank me for being there," he said aloud. Nonetheless, he felt hurt that no one expected him for who he was, now. Sure he had a few allies in the Swollen Eyeballs Net, but it wasn't the same as having a friend, or a caring family. Even though he felt ridiculous feeling this way, he wanted to be needed, but so often he felt forgotten. Sometimes, he didn't know what hurt more, when the others teased him or ignored him completely. At least if they picked on him they acknowledged the fact he was there and spent the energy to talk to him, even if it was negative. Being ignored was like being dropped out of reality into a pit of loneliness.
In spite of everything, nothing pained him more than to be ignored by his family and not only that, but he thought that he had been a good son. He kept his grades up, stayed out of serious trouble, and listened to his elders. He thought he had been a relatively good older brother. He had never hit Gaz even when she hit him first and he always kept an eye out for her. However, instead of being treated with respect or love, his father was ashamed of him and his sister was disgusted by him. Dib was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't realize that his dad had walked back into the living room.
The professor, this time around, noticed Dib in front of the couch and wondered what on earth the young boy was doing resting on the floor. Then another thought crossed the man's mind. How long had his son been there and did he hear what he said? He didn't mean to say it the way he did. The fact of the matter was that he had a horrible day at the lab and small things began to bother him. First was the car, then the weather and even the cup of coffee he had became a target for criticism. The second he came home and noticed the front door wasn't closed all the way, and it was Dib's job to make sure all windows were closed and doors were locked, he shifted his mood onto his son.
Of course, to fuel this angry temperate, the Christmas tree lights were still on, and he had said several times to turn off those lights for they cause fires. However, he never meant for his hot comments to be heard. He was about to say something when he realized for the first time that his son was sobbing softly in his slouched position. This came as a belated shock to Membrane, and he had no idea how to really react to a situation like this. Sure he had read a few books on parenting and watched a few short films, but what is he supposed to say if what he already said was causing the pain.
"Ahhhhh! Dad...," Dib shouted as he jumped to his feet startled out of his wits.
"Dib, are you okay?"
Dib narrowed his eyes slightly. He was far from okay. The man in front of him who said 'sometimes I wonder if you're my son' had the nerve to ask him 'are you okay'. He knew that he could just blow it off, say he was fine and continue on in his endless suffering, but not this time.
"No, I'm not okay!" he shouted. This reaction, however, startled himself. He didn't mean to yell but he did and his father's response made him a little nervous. His dad said nothing, he didn't even move.
"I mean I was just . . ." Dib tried to explain.
"Where did you find that?" Membrane interrupted him pointing to the scrapbook that had fallen from the boy's pocket when he jumped up.
"It was with the decorations."
"Did you read it?"
Dib was confused by the question but decided to answer it.
"Only the first page."
"Give it to me, son," the professor said with strain starting to enter his voice. Dib knew right away if he handed this book over he would never see it again. If it was something of their mother's it was never displayed. No pictures of her hung on the wall, none of her things could ever be found in the house. His dad always kept her belongings locked up down in the basement. Instead of giving the scrapbook to the large gloved hand, he placed it into his pocket.
"I want to keep it."
"I'm not giving you that option Dib. Hand it over."
"Why?"
"Because I said so!" the professor barked. Dib wavered under his dad's harsh voice, however, he didn't want to give over this book. What neither of them noticed was that Gaz was watching from the top of the stairs. The noise had woken her up and she didn't like what she was hearing. Walking down the flight and entering the living room, she grabbed the attention of the son and father. Dib felt a ray of hope shine in. Maybe with his sister on his side things would be okay and he would be able to keep the book, however, her words crushed his spirit.
"Dib, just give it to him so I can go back to bed," she said, not seeing the impact of her words. The pale boy looked between the two with feelings of distress passing through him. Why were they all against him? He could feel the hot tears welling up in his eyes.
"Now, Dib."
"No!" the boy cried as he took off for the front door and without thinking, ran out into the cold snow. Only boots and his trenchcoat offered him protection from the elements. He could hear his family calling for him as he ran down the icy sidewalk. He knew it was a dumb idea to run away from them, especially in this weather, but something kept pushing him onward.
"I don't want to go back," he huffed. The tears had now begun to run down his face, which made it even worse as ice began forming around his chin and cheeks. Christmas lights provided enough for him to see where he was going as so did the street lamps, but they did nothing for how cold it was outside. The pale boy nearly slipped several times on the snow-covered ground and his breath was leaving a long trail of fog behind him. His feet were numb as so was his hands and fingers. The cold stung his eyes and throat, and his mind grew tired of the thoughts that weighed it down. His footfalls fell from a run to a jog, then to a walk which ended him up near a convenience store.
Being he was freezing he decided to go in and warm up. The second he stepped in the warm air burned his face and hands, but it felt good to be warm. The boy had to wipe the fog that formed on his glasses and shake the snow from his boots. He noticed the clerk sitting in front of a small TV screen watching a prime time show, without noticing his presence. Dib involuntarily related this to the way he was always treated by his peers and family. For some reason, he was angry that not even a convenience sales clerk payed attention to him. He decided to just drop that subject and moved throughout the store. As the boy looked through the soda bottles, and potato chip bags he began to think of his now recent problem.
"I can't believe I ran. What will he do with me, will he do anything?" he thought aloud. These thoughts chewed at his mind and, in a way, he wanted to be found by his dad. He wanted to know his family was out looking for him, searching for him; wanting him to come home.
"Hey, kid!" A harsh voice spoke breaking his train of thought. "Are you going to buy something or not?"
It was the cashier who was barking at him.
"Um...no sir...I was...," Dib tried to explain without giving too much information.
"Then get out!"
Dib felt hurt, but walked over slowly to the door. He looked back, in hope that the man would show pity on him, but all he received was a scowl. The pale boy turned bak to the double glass doors, not wanting to enter back out into the cold, he opened them slowly. Stepping out into the frigid air once more, made his skin sprout goose bumps and his teeth chatter.
"Maybe I should just go home," he said aloud as he looked over his surroundings. Then he remembered the book he had, and what started all this to begin with. Taking the reading material out he opened it up to a random spot which read:
For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at he outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. Samuel 16:7
This sentence was confusing and inspiring all at the same time. What did it mean the heart? Was it like the saying, it's on the inside that counts? He continued reading the page full of verses, one of which hit him hard. It was as if this book knew him and his situation. It read:
When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me -Psalm 27:10
He was just about to turn the page when a gust of cold wind pushed him off balance, but instead of falling or dropping the scrapbook he looked down to see a purse lying in the snow along side a plastic bag filled with items such as bread and juice. He also noticed the bus stop that was only a few feet away. He closed the book and picked up the purse and bag. Opening the personal belongings' he notice that there was an address and name inside the women's carrier. Dib decided that it would be a good thing if he returned the purse and groceries to their rightful owner. It was Christmas time, and he knew where this place was, not to mention he had nothing better to do. Plus in an odd way it made him feel useful and needed. He started walking down the street just before a car pulled up to the convince store.
Two figures stepped out of the vehicle, one considerably taller than the other, indicating that one was a child and the other, an adult. It was Gaz and the professor who had pulled in and they quickly made their way into the shop. The gothic girl was particularly upset. She didn't want to be out here, in the cold, half asleep, looking for someone who probably didn't want to be found. As she watched her father talk to the clerk, she wondered to herself about where her brother would run, but he had no friends or hangout places other than on the roof or in the woods looking for some supernatural phenomena.
What really irritated her though was the fact that her dad didn't say what kind of book Dib had. She thought it was just some Bigfoot sighting garbage or the Crop Circles magazine she had seen him read so often, but it was not. It was instead, something of their mother's and that would explain Dib's sudden reaction to the situation. For some odd reason, she wished she had escaped, too. However, there was no sense in running around in the middle of the night, especially when it's this cold out.
"Have you seen him?" the professor asked breaking Gaz's thoughts.
"Yeah, I knew something was strange about that kid, I sent him out," the loud clerk said in an arrogant tone.
"Well, where did he go!"
"How am I supposed to know. Are you going to buy anything?"
The professor growled but decided to keep his polite composure, thanked the man and walked out. Gaz followed him out and both of them filed into the car. Meanwhile, Dib trudged through the snow carrying his new found items.
"I wonder why anyone would leave their things out here to begin with," he said to himself. As hundreds of ideas about the purse and plastic bag ran through his head, it began to snow lightly.
"I really wish I would have at least grabbed a heavier coat," he complained as the flakes began falling in and around him. After walking for sometime the pale boy began to worry whether he really did know where this place was located. He was about to lose faith in his expedition, until he came onto the street he was looking for. As he found the house number, he glanced over the home. It was covered with lights and rifes; with holly hanging around every window. It was a nice two story structure with baby blue paint and grey shingled roof. He walked up onto the gravel path that lead up to the front door listening to the sound of his boots crunching through the snow and pebbles. Upon reaching the door, he could feel the warmth from within the home. He reached up and knocked on the door, being he did not find the doorbell.
No answer came the first time so he knocked again. This time around, the door handle moved, as to open the wooden door, and a middle-aged woman with brown hair and brown eyes stepped into view. She had on a black house coat with a white shirt and black sweat pants. Her face instantly lit up when she caught sight of the purse and plastic baggage.
"Um...I found this near the bus stop and it had this address, so um is this yours," the boy said, unsure of what to really say to the owner.
"Yes! Yes! Thank you young man. Oh, you don't know how much this helps me. I don't have to cancel credit cards or get a new licence," she laughed taking the purse and groceries and looking through them, " I looked everywhere. I didn't think of the bus stop."
Dib smiled slightly, feeling good that he had done a good deed for the day. He turned to leave, not expecting any king of reward, but was stopped by the kindly woman's hand.
"Honey, are you alone?" she asked, with concern. In her excited state she hadn't noticed that it was a little boy returning her belongings, but now she could see that it was odd for a child to be out this late, in this weather, with only a thin coat for warmth. Dib panicked. If he said yes, then she might call for his dad to come pick him up, but if he said no she might want him to prove it. So he lowered his head a little, to divert eye contact, and tried to answer. He was, however, interrupted when the woman bent down to his level. "You ran away from home, didn't you?" Dib was shocked and turned to look at her, wide eyed.
"Come inside, you poor dear. It's freezing out here," she said moving aside to allow him to go in. Now every school boy knows that you never consult with strangers much less go in their house, but for an odd reason he trusted this woman. She hadn't yelled at him and she seemed to care about his well being. He walked inside and was overwhelmed by the comfortable temperature. The lady came in after him and shut the door. Dib found himself surrounded by the comforts of a nice suitable home. A fireplace was lit, providing a pleasurable amount of heat with stockings hanging over the brick mantel. He also saw the staircase that was lined with holly and ribbons.
"Wait here, sweetheart. You can sit on the couch if you'd like," she said gently.
"Thank you," he replied, as he took a seat upon the soft, black furniture piece. He watched her leave the room. It wasn't long before she returned with a man who was about the same age as her.
"Hi. May I ask what your name is, son?" the man said calmly.
"I'm Dib," the pale boy answered, knowing that they were definitely going to call his dad now.
"Dib, my name is Sam Douglas. Why are you out here?" Dib frowned. "I understand. It's okay, you don't have to answer."
"Sweety, would you like something warm to drink, hot coco maybe," the women replied. Dib didn't want to take advantage of these good people's hospitality, but he slowly nodded, being it sounded good. The kindly women smiled and left the room to get some of the beverage asked for.
"Do your parents know you're out here?" Sam asked softly. Dib shook his head no, having a harder time then usual finding his voice. "Mmm, where do you live?"
"Not to far from here," he lied, feeling that if he said how far he really lived the man would worry. Sam had the expression that the little boy wasn't going to say much, and what little he would say was probably not all true. The man had worked with children for twenty years now, and he had dealt with runaways in particular. He could tell just by looking at Dib that the child was emotionally distraught, but was not physically abused. He had seen these signs several times; usually, kids who had a death in the family or divorce tended to be disconnected and sociably inadequate. He worked at a children's shelter in town with his wife. Just as he was about to ask another question, the kindly women walked out of the kitchen holding a plain red mug.
"Here you go," she said sweetly, handing the warm substance to the pale boy.
"Thanks," the young child murmured as he took a sip of the hot chocolate. They all sat in humble silence until Dib noticed a familiar sentence scrawled on a plaque that hung over the fireplace.
A new commandment I give you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another John 13:34
"Where did you find that at?" He asked pointing at the golden plated board. Sam looked up to see what Dib was pointing at, and stood to retrieve it.
"What do you mean, where we bought this at?"
"No, um...where do the words come from?" He asked again feeling a little dumb for asking.
"Oh, it's a Bible verse," Sam said, handing the plaque to him.
"Are these, Bible verses, too?" Dib questioned pulling the book from his pocket after handing the plaque back. The pale boy went through several different verses with the couple and had a lot explained to him about the few verses he read. However, what really surprised him was the fact that the explanations given also explained some interesting paranormal facts and strange happenings. The couple spent hours telling him about what his mom might have meant through some of her prayers and letters. Pictures would show up in the scrapbook of Dib when he was younger opening gifts, and playing with his new toys.
"If you want to know more, read this," Mrs. Douglas said, passing Dib a leather book with thin pages, and bold lettering written on the front cover that read: Holy Bible. She also gave his scrapbook back.
"Thank you. I think I'm going to go home," Dib said standing up and feeling better about his life.
"Why don't we pray with you before you go? Are you sure you live close by?" Sam asked.
"Close enough."
"I'm still gonna give you this coat," Mrs. Douglas said, wrapping a large fur coat around the boy. They all bowed their heads and prepared to pray.
"Lord, please watch over Dib as he go's home tonight. Protect him and his family. Guide him and keep him safe under your watch. In your son's name. Amen."
Dib felt funny having someone pray for him and he still didn't quite understand it all. He did feel better though and he would try to read the book they gave him.
"Are you sure you don't need a ride, it is late," Sam asked one more time.
"It stopped snowing and I'll be okay," Dib reassured.
"Well still, it's cold out there."
Dib smiled in spite of himself. For once, someone was actually worried about him and his safety. There had been many times when he was forgotten and left behind. His sister would sometimes leave without him at skool. His dad would forget to pick him up for a doctor's appointment or wouldn't search for him when he didn't come home on time. He could remember when Gaz sent him into a parking garage just to get rid of him. He felt that he was doing a favor for his little sister, being he didn't want to go in the first place. He hated the games she played, feeling in a way, that it took her from him. They use to play even though it was more like sibling rivalry, but now she just played her GS and ignored him completely. 'Then she wanted a new one, at his expense.
He had spent hours in that garage feeling hopeless and helpless. His father hadn't even noticed he was missing and Gaz never came back looking for him. But now, here were strangers, that acted like they knew him for years and treated him with respect.
"Don't worry, I'll be okay."
"You know, sweety, we should really let you stay and call your dad in the mourning," Mrs. Douglas said. The pale boy seemed to consider this, but he really didn't want to drag them into his situation.
"I know, but I think I'll be all right just going home now."
"Okay, well, if that's what you want to do, I guess you can, but I want you to go straight home and here," Mr. Douglas said as he grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled on it before handing it to Dib, "call us when you get home so we know your all right." Dib nodded as he accepted the number and made his way to the front door. He was over come with grief as he realized these people cared and he had to leave that for his empty life. The Douglas' walked up behind him so as to bid him goodbye. They were surprised when the young boy turned around and hugged them tightly.
"Thank you," he cried.
"No Dib, thank you. You reminded me why I do what I do," Sam said softly. Dib didn't understand but it made him feel good anyway.
"Bye," Dib said as he let go of his embrace and walked out onto the snow- covered path, gracious that he now had a large fur coat for warmth.
"Remember to call," Mrs. Douglas shouted out as the boy made his way to the sidewalk.
"I will," Dib shouted back. He walked on his way, looking back at the baby blue home and waving back to the kind souls still at its doorway, until it was out of sight. He then looked down at the two books in his hands. He looked at the new one given to him and half smiled at it, before placing the item into his trenchcoat pocket. He looked at his mother's scrapbook with a blank expression. So much was on his mind right now, but nothing as dominant as his mother's death. One more Christmas with mom was all he wanted, but he knew that was unlikely, unless she was a ghost that he could come in contact with. However, the words and the Bible verses she wrote down made him feel strange. Like he experienced before, it felt as if the words were written for him. He slowly opened the book and glanced over the pages to which he found a few more photographs and letters. However, when ne reached page thirty-seven, his heart cried in a new rash of agony for more than one reason.
There was the fact that there was still forty more pages, uncompleted, signifying his mother's end. Then there was a family picture in which everyone looked happy and another one, that was obviously more recent. It pictured his family without his mom. It seemed to be no one was smiling in this photo. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he soon caught sight of something strange in his blurred vision. In a window hung a sign that appeared to be speaking to him once again.
"Don't cry, I'm here and always will be," it read. This was odd for any sign to read but it was particularly strange for his mom used to say that. In fact, he felt so moved and unnerved by the words that he began to cry uncontrollably. 'Don't cry, I'm here and always will be' kept sounding off in his mind with his mother's calm voice to which he thought he would never hear again. He really couldn't remember his mom as clear as he once did, but now it was as if he saw her yesterday.
He remembered now, a time he had fallen off a swing when he was three. The pain he felt was tough for a small child to endure so he did what most three year olds do, scream. The tears streamed down his tiny cheeks as his face turned red from his yelling. Then there she was, scooping him up in her warm, gentle arms. He knew he was safe and loved in his mother's embrace, so the tears slowed and the scream became a whine.
"Don't cry, I'm here and always will be."
Those words of comfort were so beautiful and precious to him. However, she died and did leave him, left him to cry alone.
"Why did you have to go?" He cried slightly to himself as he shook the thoughts from his mind. Before he could wipe the tears away, a chilling wind blew from no where. Dib was knocked down but this harsh wind didn't feel as rough when it struck him. In fact, it felt warm and actually coaxed his face and hair. Not startled at all by the strange phenomena Dib felt more at ease.
"Mom?" He asked as he sat in the snow, wondering.
"No, I'm being . . . silly."
He thought. Usually, he was one to take up the side of paranormal happenings, but his spirts were not up and he just accounted it to some strange weather event. However, the wind didn't stop and there was now a soft, sweet smell of cinnamon, his mom's smell. It was natural, he knew, to relate a smell to something and this soft cinnamon reminded him of mom. To top this off, a familiar, yet different Christmas song played, 'Jingle Bells'. Dib stood up quickly almost losing balance from the quick change.
"That's mom's favorite," he thought nearly choking on his own breath. A smile crossed his face that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud. He couldn't explain it, but this felt so good, so incredible. He didn't know what to do or where to go, or what to think. Speechless and excited, he knew he had to go back home. It didn't matter what anyone said, or what the kids at school did. His family had to know this. They could see mom again.
"I'm . . . I'm going to heaven," he shouted. It sounded strange to him, but it also felt so right. He didn't know everything, but he would learn. There was hope, in the book that Douglas' had given him, and what his mom had left behind, he just had to find it. But how? Some of the words and verses he read confused him a bit. Looking down at the scrapbook that had fallen from his grasp when he was knocked down, he saw the pages turn one by one until it came to a rest. Picking it up, he started to read the passage.
"Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened to you. Matthew 7:7," he read aloud. He heartily laughed out loud at this piece of advice. There was only one thing that seemed to be reasonable now to do. He had to get home, fast. He had to let Gaz know this. He had to let his dad know. He quickly ran off in the direction of his home; the lyrics of Jingle Bells sounding around him. He also began to sing the words as he dashed along in the snow which ironically was
"Dashing through the snow . . . "
I hope you liked this story, and I'm sorry Zim fans, there wasn't much of him in this one. It's a Christmas gift for everyone one.