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Monthly Archives: December 2015

He lay there on the old metal park bench; his white beard had gone soiled with the dirt and grime of the depressed world around him.


A crumpled up McDonald’s bag was tucked under his head for a pillow.  The contents of the bag, which had been pulled from a nearby dumpster hours ago, was eaten with the same gusto as he once ate steak; even though the French fries were limp, chewy and cold.  The clothes that he wore were also a gift from that same dumpster.  The jeans were a bit tight around the waste and the large oval, smelly, oil stain on the right leg wasn’t attractive at all but the used, and battered garment did its job.  The black T-shirt had been buried deeper than the jeans but he smiled as he pulled it up and past all the rubbish and rancid waste; avoiding a big pile of bacon grease that was mixed in with roofing tar.  When he freed the t-shirt from its intended grave, he stretched it out in front of him and chuckled, which quickly became a long deep belly laugh.  The shirt was an extra large, which fit him perfectly, but it was the words boldly printed in white across the front that struck him as funny; especially considering his current situation:  IF I’M EVER ON LIFE SUPPORT UNPLUG ME- THEN PLUG ME BACK IN. SEE IF THAT WORKS.

He used the area behind the dumpster, next to a loading dock, to dress into his new “old” outfit.  He discarded the clothes that he had donned for as long as he could remember and pushed them into a pile at his feet.  Some might describe his clothes as a costume but to him they had become an unwanted attachment to a tradition that was seriously outdated and embarrassingly ridiculous. He picked up his old suit and pushed it deep down in the dumpster where it mixed in with the black tar and bacon grease.  “There,” he muttered while looking down at his jeans and shirt. “I’m normal. Just like everybody else.”  He grabbed his McDonald’s bag and walked over to the park bench, sat down and began to eat.  As the sun began to set, the old man looked forward to a late fall night, sleeping under the stars.

To Charlie, a seven year old from the hood, an old white man sleeping on a bench in Shelby Park was certainly not a common sight.  His older brother Jeff went to play basketball in the park all the time but he was always quick to point out to his younger brother that it wasn’t a place to hang out for little kids. “Too much drugs and crime…” he would always say.  Despite all the warnings, here was Charlie on a sun drenched Saturday morning, standing and starring at a sleeping man with the dirty beard.   Charlie would have never noticed the bum, that is what most people would call him, if the chain had not fallen off his bike less than ten feet from the bench.  The chain would have to wait. There was something mysterious and fascinating about the old man and Charlie needed to investigate further; regardless of the warnings that Jeff was always preaching about.

Charlie, ever so slowly crept up next to the man, being extremely quiet not to crunch on the leaves that were underfoot.  Charlie’s eyes were wide with heart pounding excitement, as his face was less than a foot away from the bums face.  Charlie got a whiff of something foul and crinkled his nose but the filthy odor didn’t deter Charlie’s mission.  He reached out with trembling fingers and gave the bum’s beard a quick tug.  Nothing happened.  Charlie feared that the man might be dead but he noticed his eyelid twitching. He decided to give the beard another pull. The bum grumbled something and then he shot straight up on his seat.  The old man’s face registered surprise and shock and he shouted out, “Charlie!  Why did you do that!?  I was sleeping.”  Charlie fell back onto the leafy ground, landing on his butt and hands. The young boy’s mouth fell open but he couldn’t speak.  Fear gripped him and at that moment, he wished he had listened to his brother and stayed out of the park.

Finally, after a frightful few seconds he got the words out while still staring wide-eyed at the bum on the bench. “How did you know my name?”   The old man’s face switched from a frown to a smile and he chuckled when he saw how worried the kid looked, as he laid sprawled out on the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry kid. I must have been dreaming of someone with the same name as yours. Isn’t that a corker?  Really, I mean no harm.”  “A corker? What is that?” Charlie nervously inquired.  “Just a figure of speech young man. It sort of means: ‘Isn’t it funny’ that I would be dreaming of someone with the same name as yours?”  Charlie quickly got up, brushed himself off, and looked over at his bike wondering if he should make a run for it. Instead, he turned to the old man and said, “Well, I don’t think it’s funny at all. You knowing my name without me telling you is spooky and wrong.”  The old codger continued to smile at him, causing Charlie to relax a little. There seemed to be something special and disarming about the old timer so he took a few steps closer to the man.  “What is your name?” Charlie asked.  “I’m…” The old man hesitated and paused before nodding his head. “My name is, Nick.  It’s nice to meet you, Charlie.”  Nick reached out a dirty hand to shake but Charlie kept his hands planted at his sides. Charlie’s head dropped down a fraction. He was reading Nick’s shirt. “What does life support mean?”  “Well,” Nick clasped his hands together on his lap and thoughtfully replied. “It means to keep someone alive, even when there is little hope left.”  Charlie relaxed a little more. Taking an interest in what Nick had just said, he took a few more steps closer and sat down on the bench next to Nick, but out of reach of the old man and out of reach of the odor; on the far end of the bench.  After a few moments, Charlie tilted his head up slightly and peered at Nick out of the corner of his eye. “You remind me of someone I once knew.”  Nick kept his hands clasped together and looked over at Charlie. “Who might that be, Charlie?”  Charlie nodded his head up and down. “It’s your beard. You look like Santa Claus.”  Nick chuckled, amused at the comparison.  “Yes,” said Nick. “I suppose I do…a little. You said you once knew him. You don’t any more?”  Charlie, looking sad, dropped his head. “No. He stopped coming around when I was five.  Two years ago.  After my dad got shot and died.”  Nick blinked twice and said, “I’m sorry.”  Charlie’s chin was still on his chest and his voice was laced with extreme sadness when he said, “They pulled the plug on him,… and they never plugged him back in…”  Nick let out a long sigh, searching for something to say to change the subject. He cleared his throat. “Charlie, do you still believe in Santa Claus?”  Charlie picked up his head and looked at Nick. He still looked sad. “I don’t know. My brother said he’s not real. He’s just in our imaginations.”  Now it was Nick’s turn to hang his head onto his chest. Tears began to well up in Nick’s eyes.  He tried to blink them away but a tear escaped and ran down a dirty cheek.  He swept it away with the back of his hand. He turned his head to Charlie. “Well, I’m here to tell you that your brother is wrong. “  Charlie quickly challenged him. “Then, if Santa is real, why hasn’t he been around here for Christmas lately and besides, how would you know?  You’re just a dirty old bum?”  Charlie didn’t say it in a mean way. It was actually polite in the way he said it. “  Nick shifted on the bench and turned his body to better face Charlie. He spoke softly.  “Charlie, do you believe in me?”  “What do you mean?” Charlie asked.  “Do you believe I’m real?”,  asked Nick.  Charlie felt challenged. It was like when his brother would ask him a trick question.  It made him feel stupid.  He did what he did with his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest and exclaimed, “Yes, of course you’re real. I can see you,” He crinkled his nose again. “And I can smell you. You need a bath…”  Despite the polite insult, Nick chuckled. “Well, I’m glad you believe in me. Can I tell you a little story?”  “Yeah sure…”

Okay. For many many years, when I was about your age I kept to myself. I never went out much.  I would hide away in my home and read mostly. I loved to read. I had an easy life. My parents were rich and what I remember most about them is that they went to church a lot. Well, during this time when I was young and reading a lot they both became ill and soon, they died.  After they died my uncle Nick, he had the same name as me, raised me.  He was very religious and soon so was I.  Like my parents, I began to go to church a lot.  My uncle Nick liked that when I went to church I learned a lot about life.  I also learned about God and I learned that just because we can’t see him doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist.  I learned about faith; a belief in someone or something that we can’t see or touch. However, even though we can’t see or touch someone or something, we can FEEL it in our gut and soul.  It’s like when you know when someone loves you; you can feel it. And you feel it when you love someone in return.”  Charlie held up a hand to ask Nick a question. “Yes, Charlie?”  Charlie looked up at Nick with a set of very sad eyes. “If you love someone a whole bunch, can faith save them from dying?”  Nick thought Charlie might be thinking about his dad and how he died but there seemed to be an urgency in those eyes that indicated that Charlie was thinking about someone else.  Nick answered after he took a moment to consider the question. “Yes, Charlie. Sometimes it can.”  Charlie bowed his head down.  His voice became very low and sad. “My mom has cancer.  My brother said that she won’t be around much longer.”  Nick slid himself down the bench and rested a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie let him.  He wasn’t afraid of Nick anymore.  “Charlie,” Nick softly said.  “have you ever prayed?”  Charlie’s head remained bowed. “Yes.  I pray every night.”  “Look at me, Charlie.”  Charlie raised his head and looked at Nick. “When you pray, don’t pray from your sadness. Pray from the happiness that you receive from your mom. She wouldn’t want you to be sad. Above all, have faith in your love for your mom and let that love do the healing.  Loving someone doesn’t always cure someone but it does help the person in amazing ways that we can’t possibly understand. It heals the soul. That I do know.  Do you think you can pray the way I explained?”  Charlie looked a bit confused. “I will, but how can someone like you know all about faith and love and being happy?  Look at you.  You’re a mess.”  Charlie couldn’t help but giggle at what he just said and Nick picked up on the humor and began to laugh harder than he had in a very long time.  It was a laugh that started way down deep and as it rolled up and finally burst out of his mouth, his belly shook.  Up and down it went.  Over and over again and soon both Nick and Charlie were laughing so hard they were holding their sides.  Finally, Nick was able to talk. “Do you see how happy I am?”  Charlie nodded.  “Charlie, I have to get going.  I have things I have to do but I want to thank you.  You helped an old man feel good about life again.  I feel like you plugged me back in.”  He pointed a finger at the front of his shirt.  “It feels good to be out in the world again and not cooped up in a place where I had to wear a business suit all the time.  You go along now and don’t forget to pray, okay?” Nick stood up and so did Charlie.  Nick held out a hand and Charlie shook it.  Both had big smiles on their faces.  “Good-bye, Nick.  Maybe I’ll see you in the park again soon…” Nick nodded. “Maybe you will.”

As Charlie began walking away toward where his bike was laying in the grass, Nick spoke behind Charlie’s back.  “Charlie, tell Jeff what I told you about Santa Claus…”  Charlie looked over his shoulder and waved to Nick.  “I will.”  Nick was smiling and waving back.  Charlie bent down to pick up his bike by the handle bars, intending to roll the bike to a nearby tree so he could prop it up there so he could work on putting his chain back on, but when he looked down he was shocked.  The chain was back on and it wasn’t as loose as it was before. “No way!” Charlie  shouted in surprise. Thinking that Nick must have heard him, Charlie looked over in the direction of the bench but Nick was nowhere in sight. He had simply vanished.

As Charlie pedaled fast to get home to tell Jeff about the bum he met, something occurred to Charlie.  He had never mentioned his brother to Nick by name but…somehow he knew his name too, just as he knew Charlie’s name when they first met.

Charlie told Jeff all about the old man in the park but Jeff paid little mind to the surprises of how the man somehow knew their names or about the mystery of the bike chain.  Instead, Jeff scolded Charlie about making friends with strangers in the park.  Charlie knew how Jeff would react, so he took it all in stride and made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  While he was spreading the jelly on the bread Charlie tried to lessen Jeff’s irritation with him. “Where’s mom?”  Jeff had his head lowered, watching some music video on his phone. “She’s at the doctor. They’re doing another scan of the tumor.”  Charlie stopped spreading the jelly.  He hated that word, tumor.  It was killing his mother and Jeff said it like Mom was gone to have her nails done.  But it was what it was and Charlie remembered what Nick had told him about praying.  He put down the butter knife and immediately put his hands together as if making a church steeple. “Please, God. Please don’t let Mom die. She’s the only family left that Jeff and I have…”  Jeff lifted up his head from his phone and looked over at Charlie.  The irritation was gone, replaced by sadness.  “Not sure God can help her at this point, Charlie.”  Charlie looked at his brother and smiled. “I have faith.”  Jeff walked over to his baby brother and hugged him tight. “I wish I did, Charlie. “

The following Monday morning Jeff and Charlie woke up, ate their breakfast and were getting ready for school.  As Charlie went to the enclosed porch to put on his shoes he noticed that something was tucked into one of his shoes. He reached down  and picked up the shoe and tugged at what was inside. Charlie’s eyes and mouth went wide with surprise.  He now held onto a large wad of cash. He was speechless as he ran inside the house. Finally, he yelled, “Jeff. Mom. There’s a lot of money in my shoe! Come here!”  When the three counted out the money, there was a total of $3,000 now lying on their kitchen table.  They all eyed each other before Jeff spoke up. “Someone put this in Charlie’s shoe. Who would do that?”  Charlie thought about Nick but Nick was just an old bum who couldn’t even keep himself clean. It couldn’t have been him, he thought. Or could it?  The money was put into their home safe and they all decided that they would talk more about the money later that night.  The boys went to school and their mom stayed at home and waited for a phone call from her doctor; who would give her the results of the test.

That night, as promised, they talked about the money and they decided that after buying winter clothes for the boys they would save the rest.  “For a rainy day, mom?” Charlie asked.  “Yes and maybe for a sunny day.”  She smiled.  “Come here you two. I have something to tell you.”  Charlie, Jeff, and their mom went into the living room and sat down. She didn’t waste time she got right to the point. Charlie noticed that she was no longer smiling. She looked nervous, squeezing her hands together. “I got a call from the doctor earlier today,” She breathed out as she pursed her lips together. “It seems. And after he checked the results several times, he told me…” After a long pause, she got it out. “the tumor is gone and I’m cancer free.”  Jeff was only able to say one word. He was so choked up. “How?”  “I don’t know honey. I think it’s a miracle.”  With that, they all gathered for a group hug and the joyful tears flowed.  Charlie was about to mention his talk with Nick but he was afraid that his mother would disapprove as Jeff did, so he kept quiet. Soon after they wiped their tears away, his mother had a story to tell.  They all sat down to listen.

“On Saturday, as I was walking into the doctors office, I noticed a man sitting at a picnic table, near the fountain next to the doctor’s office.  There were several kids gathered around him with their parents in tow.  He was giving out candy canes and something else in these little tiny plastic bags. I was in a hurry and didn’t want to snoop any further so I continued past the group.  As I passed, something very odd happened.  This old man, who was handing out candy canes, called me over to him. He called me by my name! He hollered, ‘Joyce Hunter, come here. I have something for you.’  I was dumb struck and yes, a bit scared, but I walked cautiously over to him.  He looked like a very nice man who wore a big smile. He held out his hand and said, ‘Nice to meet you, Joyce.’  I shook his hand. I was about to ask him how he knew me but he continued to talk. He said, ‘I don’t have a lot of time but please take these three candy canes. One for each one of your boys and you and, take these three medals. Make sure all of you wear them. I have to go now.’  He turned and walked quickly away without another word.  I yelled out, “But wait…”  but he kept walking toward the fountain.  I then went into the doctor’s office to have my test.”

Charlie was so excited that he couldn’t stay seated. He got up and walked over to where his mom sat on the couch.  “Mom, what did this man look like?”  “He was short. He had a white beard and he wore jeans and a black t-shirt. Why?”  “Did he stink like a bum?”  “Oh, no. He didn’t. He looked very clean.”  Charlie smiled.  “He must have taken a bath.”  Charlie went on and told his mom about the man he met in the park. He told her everything.  After he was done, his mom got big eyes of her own and asked, “What’s the date today?”  Jeff said “December 8th.”  “Saturday was December 6th.” She replied.  “Yes, so?”  said Charlie.  His mom got out the medals that the man had given her for the first time. She took two of them out of the plastic bags and handed them to her two boys.   Without looking herself, she said, “Look closely at the medal. It should say in tiny letters who the man on the medal is.”  Charlie held his medal up to his face and after a few seconds said, “Saint Nicolas.”   Now Jeff’s eyes got big.  “Could that man have been…”  He couldn’t say it. Joyce smiled and nodded yes. “Yes, I believe it was him. He was in a hurry because Saint Nicolas died on December 6th.  He was known for leaving money in people’s shoes during the dark of night.”  She looked directly at Charlie who smiled and pumped his fist in the air.  “I knew it!  There really is a Santa Claus!”



Nick continued to appear periodically in the neighborhoods of America where families and children gathered. He took the advice from Charlie and made sure he was cleaned up and presentable and he did admit that he was a bit down on the day he met Charlie. Giving up the red suit was an end of an era for him. For close to one hundred and seventy years he played the part of Father Christmas; after he read A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.  It seemed that it was the right thing to do since he was given the green light from heaven to visit earth.

Lately though, playing Santa Claus was getting to be hard on the old saint and besides, a lot of kids, after the age of seven were losing interest in the jolly old elf and many no longer believed in Santa. Nick eventually felt the need to shed the disguise and reveal his true self to the world. Whether people would see him for what he really was, when he lived and walked the earth, close to 1,800 years ago remains to be seen.

However, Nick will forever exist in the minds and hearts of the people he has touched, such as Charlie and his family.  The next time you see a man with a white beard just hanging around or passing you by on the street, consider the possibility that he may be there to give you a special gift or maybe a miracle.

Saint Nicholas (15 March 270 – 6 December 343) of Myra was a 4th-century Greek Christian bishop of Myra, now in Turkey. Nicholas was famous for his generous gifts to the poor, in particular presenting the three impoverished daughters of a pious Christian with dowries so that they would not have to become prostitutes.  He was very religious from an early age and devoted his life entirely to Christianity. In continental Europe, he is usually portrayed as a bearded bishop in canonical robes.


 Please visit the author of this post: Tom Riddell:


DragonVein was written by Brian D. Anderson and published by Longfire Press in 2015. You may purchase it at Visit the author at and on Facebook.

By Brian D. Anderson

Carentan, France 1944 – Ethan Martin, a soldier in the 101st Airborne, is fighting for his life. But soon he will learn what peril truly is when he is ripped from his world and transported to a land of magic, swords, and dragons. And though the Nazis are now far, far away, danger is closer than ever.

The Eternal Emperor, Shinzan has destroyed the mages and only a few dragons remain in exile. And now that Ethan, son of Praxis Dragonvein, has returned he must destroy him as well. Faced with unimaginable power, Ethan has only one hope – to reach the dwarf kingdom of Elyfoss before Shinzan can find him.

A young WWII soldier, Ethan Martin, finds himself in a fight with the Nazi’s. Fighting alongside of him is his friend and fellow soldier, Markus. The two are in a battle for their lives when something very strange happens. An old man appears before them, lying on the ground. He is dressed strangely and he talks in a language that is just as bizarre and unknown as his clothing. What follows will change Markus and Ethan forever. The old man ushers them into a strange and dangerous portal that transports them to another world.  Ethan and Markus are separated during the transport. Ethan then embarks on a mission to find his friend, amidst a world filled with elves, dwarfs, dragons and magic. Ethan is not prepared for what he finds.

Brian D. Anderson, the author of the popular Godling Chronicles series, begins this new series with high hopes of similar success.  The author doesn’t disappoint.  The story is very interesting and flows nicely. The characters display a richness of personality that will immediately win you over.  There were pivotal points, coinciding with some very good plot twists that dramatically elevated the story to a point where I could not put the book down.  It’s like magic, the story pulls you in, and you find yourself walking right along with the characters on their exciting journey.

Brian D. Anderson has turned the corner from being a first time author. He is now a well-established novelist with a fan base that is expanding every day. We all look forward to his future as a talented and accomplished author.

I give DragonVein 5 stars.

Please visit the author of this post: Tom Riddell: