A Christmas Post from Catwalk
It was cold, bitter cold, in the dangerous depths of
Several stories below, the people shuffled about, in greater numbers than usual. Cat knew the reason; he’d seen the fliers drifting in the cold winter air. There was a chorale concert, a voluntary gathering of singers, of all things, to be held in the spot which used to be
The sun has just set, or at least fallen into obscurity behind the skyscrapers that clawed their way toward the heavens. Uptown was where the real money existed; home to the celebrities and the wealthy. Down here, Downtown, the remainder of society existed; outcasts, renegades and those never given a chance.
Cat preferred it here. As a former orphan, a former invalid, and a member of the police force back east who never seemed to fit in, he could understand those who lived Downtown. He had accepted this place, and it had welcomed him. Once he’d grown accustomed to life in the bowels of the city, he couldn’t picture living anywhere else.
Cat gazed upward for just a moment. He’d finished a number of jobs that had gained him respect and notoriety Uptown. None of them had provided him the ability to balance and center as this place had. He felt himself chuckle and scoff at those labeled “better off”. He pulled his collar up against the spiraling winter breeze as he directed his attention to the gathering people below.
The fascination grew within him as we watched from his perch. The carolers lined up in uniform fashion, armed bodyguards taking their places on each side. The small crowd gathered in the makeshift park, the grounds painstakingly cleaned up and picked over by the singers over the past three hours. As they began their song, he could see the faces of some of the onlookers mouthing the words.
To Cat, Christmas was a curious event. He’d been taught the story of the birth of Jesus Christ, Son of God, and how he was born in a manger to a loving father and virgin mother. He’d learned that Jesus grew up, gathered his apostles, was persecuted, crucified and rose from the dead. Anyone who believed in him could gain eternal peace, and their sins would be absolved.
He exhaled sharply, the steam from his breath forming in the cold air. Eternal Peace. The promise of that was reward enough. He didn’t need pure angels with trumpets and wings, or contentment for all eternity. He didn’t need blinding lights, festivals and food on which only the divine could feed. Peace itself would be a welcome change from the chaotic life he’d played out so far.
As much as he’d like to think the Bible stories were truth, he had grown too calloused…or too much of a realist…to believe they were anything more than fairy tales. God had created Man in his own image, and yet, everyday in
Try as he may, there was still something sympathetic in the heart of the hitman. Instead of watching in fascination or feeling the so-called “spirit of Christmas”, he scanned the crowd, his hand gracing the palm of his pistol. While he may not join in the caroling, he caught himself protecting the carolers from anyone who might destroy their special moment. His spirit might be weak, but his flesh was willing.
In that moment, he envied them; the singers…the hopeful…the believers. Had the lessons of his past not been what they were, who knew…he might even be among their number today. Though he couldn’t find it in his heart to believe, something within him respected their hope, and that something was willing to protect them.
-In our own special way, Merry Christmas from Catwalk and myself, and a very special “I Miss You” to Criss Oliva (1963-1993)
“I am the Way, I am the Light,
I am the dark inside the night,
I feel you hope, I feel your dreams,
And in the dark, I hear your screams,
Don’t turn away, just take my hand,
And when you make your final stand,
I’ll be right there…I’ll never leave,
All I ask of you is Believe.”
-Savatage, “Believe” (1991)
Labels: Catwalk, Christmas, Criss Oliva, nK, Savatage
Glad you don't share the same view as Cat, angel :)
Thank you for the fire.
~me
Posted by
Stacia Kelly | 9:54 PM