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    One Cold December Night
    One Cold December Night
    One Cold December Night
    Ebook68 pages58 minutes

    One Cold December Night

    By Eduard Meinema

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Christmas Eve; John Maier is on his way home. Although home never felt the same since his parents passed away. And tonight... Everybody is afraid of what they will get. Christmas will never be the same again!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEduard Meinema
    Release dateDec 21, 2018
    ISBN9780463255964
    One Cold December Night
    Author

    Eduard Meinema

    "I love writing into the dark; like to be surprised by the characters scavenging through my own stories. Just before things are getting familiar; when I think, or at least believe, to know where a new story is going to, I give it a twist and make my readers (and myself) wonder... how the hell is this going to end?"WORDS and VISIONEduard Meinema is writer and visual artist. He writes in an exciting and humorous style. Creates intense, passionate and mysterious stories filled with unexpected twists which will seduce anyone to finish reading at full speed. Beside his full length novels, Eduard is fond of writing Flash Fiction and Short Stories. All of these 'Twisted Tales' are published as stand alone eBooks in the series 'Flash & Shorts'.Meinema's works of art include so called 'lyric abstract' paintings. Expressionistic works made of Acrylics and Sand. But also Pop-art, including characters known as 'Skredches' (Yes! There is a blog:check out the official site to find blog feeds!!) and...fish paintings. As Meinema says: "Ah! I love fish. Love to see them. Love to keep them. Breed them, paint them, eat them... (ouch, sorry for that...). Oh yeah, I love fish in each and every way."Meinema, born 1963 (Delft, The Netherlands) is former CEO of a temp office, specialized in contracting technicians. Together with his wife he has managed a gallery for contemporary art and jewelry for more than ten years. Nowadays Meinema is fulltime writer and visual artist.

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      Book preview

      One Cold December Night - Eduard Meinema

      Eduard Meinema

      One cold December night

      Copyright © 2020 by Eduard Meinema

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

      First edition

      This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

      Find out more at reedsy.com

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      About the Author

      Chapter 1

      John Maier tucked his head deeply in his winter coat. Not as protection against the cold, but as a vain attempt to avoid the continuously falling rain. Predictions remain predictions, he thought. Climate change was faster than scientists had expected. In recent decades, not only the temperature on earth was rising faster than they had calculated; the world´s population also showed an unexpectedly rapid increase.

      He hided in a portico. Taking a break from the pouring rain and the shrill wind.

      Hey! said the man who was sitting on the floor of the portico next to a supermarket cart filled with discarded junk. Fuck off! This is my place! Go celebrate Christmas somewhere else! the old man snapped aggressively. He already stood up to reinforce his words. His grubby, torned jacket fell open, revealing what he wore underneath: nothing.

      Horrified, John looked at the torn-off body covered with countless scars and the weather-beaten face that was camouflaged by a messy beard but clearly showed all the signs of the heavy outdoor life. He grabbed something from his coat pocket. Found a small package and threw it on the floor next to the supermarket cart. Here. Eat! he muttered to the wanderer. Have a nice Christmas yourself!

      I do not need your well-meant shit! roared the vagabond. That haughtiness of you people. All that shit like you’re really meaning it. Get lost! Dickhead!

      John left the portico and continued walking. He’s right, John thought. Nobody believes it. Everyone simply gives something to plead his conscience. The charity as a modern indulgence letter. And then… to be seated at the table with all of those hypocritical family members. Spending a cozy night with all of them at the Christmas dinner. Well. All together… With what was left of the family. In the past two years, compliance with the Humanitarian Management Plan, which had been implemented for several decades in the last week of December, had allowed its family to shrink considerably.

      Fucking salvation-officer! the drifter called him, grumbling before he opened the package and gulped the food into his mouth.

      The Christmas lights in the shopping street were a bright contrast to the dark and unlit church that stood cold and ominous in the dark.

      God had left everyone.

      Everyone had left god.

      Two streets away, he knew, there was another church. After many years of vacancy, that building was eventually converted into a mosque. Until the seekers also felt cheated by the prophet. This ancient church, which had been converted into a mosque, had also been empty for years. Abandoned and expired.

      Maier chuckled. The stars of the festive lights reflected nothing more than a false promise. A child was born. So what? Times have changed. The decision about life and death was in human hands nowadays. God help us. Although … No god who could change anything about the thorny situation in which mankind had maneuvered itself.

      Shivering, he walked past the depressing and dark church; further along the now closed stores. The windows sprayed with artificial snow were safely hidden behind solid shutters. The speakers still played Cold December Night, a Christmas carol from times long gone:

      The children sleep with one eye open

      Now there’s more than toys at stake

      Yes. There is indeed more at stake, John thought. Ha! It sure is!

      It was at the end of the street. The house of his mother. His late mother. This year, for the very first time, the family would celebrate Christmas without her. Because last year… He still could not figure it out. His mother. Sacrificed… His hands clenched into fists in the pockets of his coat. Against all knowledge; he knew he could not win this fight.

      He missed her every day. A quick cup of coffee. Just tell her about what you had experienced. These moments were gone forever.

      And days like these…

      He was almost sick of grief.

      He called. A voice rustled through the intercom: Don’t you have your key with you?

      In a reflex he felt in his pockets. Yes, of course he had taken the keys with him. But out of habit he rang the bell. Well, hurry up John. Come upstairs! said the young woman. You are the last.

      He trudged on the dirty staircase. Feeling embarrassed. How

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