Crooked
Snow, snow, and more snow! How can a man live in a place with such useless weather? Richard B. Riddick grumbled as he shuffled through the many papers on his small desk. He pulled his heavy black coat around his shivering body and rubbed his nose,
Jack, why isn't my fire going? He howled. A young boy came stumbling in holding an armful of firewood. As he bent down to get the fire going Richard caught a glimpse of the boys bad leg, a cripple he was. Useless.
S-sorry sir. Jack stuttered out as he struck flint against steel and tried to spark fire to the logs. Richard watched annoyed as the young boy failed again and again at getting the wood to light, finally fed up with the interruption he turned on the boy,
Just get out! Jack looked up at Richard for a moment as he comprehended what he was telling him to do. Richard motioned for him to leave and he got up and limped out of the room, going back to finish his day's work. Richard sat back in his chair and looked out the window of his small office; children playing in the snow, adults shoveling the snow off of their sidewalks, snow drifting silently down to the ground. Peaceful to all but Richard B. Riddick,
Oh so much damn happiness and joy, because it's Christmas...Ba Humbug! Richard mumbled to all of the people that couldn't hear him. He heard shuffling in the other room and then he saw Jack's head pop into his office,
Mr. Riddick, sir? Jack asked timidly. Richard looked over at him and nodded curtly, Jack came into the room holding his hands behind his back and rocked back slightly on his heels, I was wondering if I could maybe have the rest of the day off, mind I have all of my accounting done. Jack asked quickly stumbling over some of the words as he said them. Richard sat forward slightly, cocking an eyebrow,
And why would I just give you the rest of the day off? Richard asked. Jack looked down at his feet feeling intimidated by the older man,
It's just that it's Christmas eve and well... He trailed off. Richard sat back in his seat and looked outside at the people again,
As soon as you've done this stack of papers. Jack looked up and saw the mountain of papers sitting on Richard's desk taunting him, laughing at him. Huffing a little, Jack stepped forward and took the stack of papers and shuffled out of the room leaving Richard alone again. Smiling to himself, Richard folded his hands in his lap and put his head back against the cushion of his seat.
Ten minutes later found Richard pulling on his long black coat and walking into the front of the small bank office where Jack sat still working on the stack of papers he had given him. Jack looked up quickly, a look of expectancy flashed across the his features before quickly disappearing,
Well I'm off, hope you get all that done before dark. Richard laughed and put on his top hat before walking out the door, only to be stopped by a couple standing just outside the door. Richard slapped a hand over his face and turned back to walk back into the building with the couple in tow,
Get on with it, I don't have all day. Richard grumbled when he was seated in his chair, the couple huddled closely together as if they might be torn apart at any minute. The man stepped forward pulling his cheap wool hat off of his graying hair,
Mr. Riddick sir, we need an advance. You see our son-
Sorry Mr. Brempter, I've already given you an advance this month. Richard stood up getting ready to leave again when the woman caught his arm weeping quietly,
Please sir, please! She begged. Richard tried to pull his arm away in a controlled matter, not just ripping it away. When she wouldn't let go he turned to her and forcefully removed her hands from his arm,
Zeke, please keep a reign on your wife. Richard said harshly as he replaced his hat and moved to the door of his office, holding it open he gestured for the couple to leave. Zeke bent to collect his fallen wife, who lay weeping, and helped her walk out of the door. Shazza turned back and held up her hands in front of Richard begging him once again, something about their sick son, but Richard would hear nothing of it.
Jack watched the interaction from behind his lashes, trying to look like he wasn't watching at all, his heart went out to the couple. Zeke and Shazza Brempter was another poor couple that couldn't afford the expensive medicine for their terminally ill son, Zeke worked two jobs trying to keep up the family of three because Shazza couldn't leave their son alone. Jack watched as the couple walked away through the snow and around the block out of sight and then watched as Richard checked his things a final time before leaving as well.
Jack found himself watching the large man intently, and then he heard himself praying for him. Something that was so foreign to Jack that he didn't exactly understand why he was doing it, but something inside told him to pray for the man even if he was scrooged.
******
Richard held his coat closer to his body as he fought his way to his house on the outskirts of town, the winter blizzard had just started up minutes after he had started home.
If only I would have left five minutes earlier, he grumbled to himself as he pushed through a crowd of people. He shoved a young boy out of the way before he heard the familiar voice floating through the air,
...we shall bring him silver and gold. Then the choir joined in and he lost the voice. He turned trying to catch a glimpse of the face that went with the voice, but too many people stood around the group and he gave up turning to walk home again.
Years ago he'd met a young woman by the name of Carolyn Fry at the local fair that came to town every spring, she'd been playing a game of Marco Polo. She was blindfolded and she spun around reaching out to grasp someone as they responded to her, when one of the other kids sidestepped to avoid her she fell into him,
Mark Goustos! She cried out as she pulled off her blind fold to see her captive. A gasp escaped her small mouth as she looked up at Richard, the rest of the people moved away quickly leaving her alone with him. He scowled down at her as she stood still with her hand planted in the middle of his broad chest,
Mercy Monsieur... She trailed off. Richard kept trying to make himself move away from her, but found it impossible to do so and it was making him more and more angry by the moment,
Riddick, Richard Riddick. He bite out. The young girl nodded slightly and let her eyes trail down to where her hand rested on his chest, her eyelashes fluttering. He watched her as she worked her womanly magic on him as she removed her hand and then replaced it rubbing lightly,
My name's Carolyn Fry, she said in a husky voice as she whirled away and left him standing cold and overly aroused.
Richard shook his head clearing the memory from his mind as he stepped up to the front door of his manor. As soon as he stepped inside he began to complain to himself, pulling his coat and hat off hanging them in their proper places before walking up to his study. He quickly lit his oil lamp and then lit the study fire and his bedroom fire before sitting down to smoke, the tobacco calming his senses and releasing the unwanted tension of his day's work.
When he heard the ancient grandfather clock strike ten he stood and went to dress for bed, happy that he'd thought to light the fire in his bedroom early so that he wouldn't be cold when he came to bed. Walking over to the fire he added a few more logs before walking back to the grand bed, with curtains that draped down to conceal him from view if he so wished. Lying down in the many folds of lush comforters, Richard let the approaching darkness invade his mind without another thought.
******
Richard awoke suddenly in a cold sweat, nightmares; ones that he'd had since he was a little boy. Monsters, but they were different, not just boyhood monsters under the bed, oh no these were much much different. Beautiful, swift, and deadly were the only things he could ever say to describe the incredible monsters that plagued his subconscious, but something about them made them more real than anything else he'd ever dreamt about. It might have just been because of having the dreams so often since his childhood, but he had always known that they must have been from a different life time, a different person.
A crash from somewhere in the house brought his mind back to the present, Richard grabbed his pocket watch from beside the night stand where the oil lamp sat. Lighting the lamp he looked at the watch just as he heard the first bang of the grandfather clock; 12:00am. Grabbing his robe from the footboard on his bed he slipped into it before turning and grabbing the oil lamp and walking on bare feet to the top of the stairs.
What Richard saw at the bottom of the stairs was something he'd never forget, the sound of shattering glass resounded throughout the empty manor, the oil spread slowly at Richard's feet.
A/N: What do you all think? I haven't seen too many Christmas stories out there so I decided I'd be creative *coughs* and write a story! Leave me a review and tell me what you expect...