The Glass Top Coffin (standard:drama, 1455 words) [8/12] show all parts
Author: Stephen-Carver Byrd	Added: Dec 31 2002	Views/Reads: 2405/1760	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
***Part 8*** The Christmas Miracle Of Falls Hills

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Of: $300, 000.” Madelyn continued to stare at it, never saying a word 
or flinching an inch. The check slipped from her fingers and fluttered 
to the floor. Madelyn had past out cold onto the sofa. Jordan screamed 
and ran to her. Slapping her face lightly had no effect; she was out 
like a light. He dashed to the bathroom, wet a towel and began wiping 
his mother's cheeks and forehead. In a brief moment, she began to come 
around. Her eyes quivered upward at first then opened lightly. 

“What happened to you, Mom?” Jordan cried. 

“I'm not sure honey, I think I just fainted,” she said in a weak voice.
Seeing that his mother was ok, Jordan picked the check off the floor 
and read it. Large tears filled his eyes as he enfolded into his 
mother's arms. For what seemed an eternity, they tightly rocked and 
cried. What else was there to do during a miracle? 

After a few moments, which allowed them to gain some composure, Madelyn
looked into her envelope again. There was something else inside. It was 
a business card and it read: 

Joseph McAllister 

President, First Federal Bank And Savings. 

On the back of the card Mr. Moore had written: 

Madelyn, please see this gentleman. 

He'll need to confirm the check. 

He will also help you set up some nice investments if you choose. 

WM 

Jordan removed the two letters addressed to him. The first one that he
opened contained a large brass key. A small note was attached. He also 
read it aloud for his mother to hear. 

Dear Jordi, 

Here is the key to the store; she's all yours. Mr. McAllister will put
it into your mother's name until you reach 21. Feel free to do what you 
wish with it. I gave instructions that it be cleaned and boarded shut 
should something happen to me. I hope everything inside will be in good 
order. 

PS: Mr. McAllister will help you and your mother with the trust fund
that I have set up for your collage education. 

“Oh God,” Madelyn cried, “I always worried about your college. I knew I
would never be able to afford it.” 

Jordan looked at her with tear-filled eyes then read the last line. 

PPS: Master that aim, boy, that's what college will help you do, master
that aim. Those Ducks will be coming in awfully fast and you'll only 
get one shot. 

WM 

“Mom!” Jordan cried. “That's almost the very thing he told me the day he
died but I didn't understand then. How could he have possibly put that 
into this letter if the box has been sealed for a year?” Madelyn just 
shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in total disbelief. 

Jordan opened the last envelope. It jingled like more keys. He poured
the contents into his hand then let out a faint yelp. It was the two 
special Indian head pennies. Large tears dripped onto them, running 
through the boy's small fingers and onto the green, worn out carpet. 

There was one last note attached with the pennies and it read: 

Jordi, 

I always knew these pennies meant more to you than they did to me. I
could never think of anyone better to entrust them to. 

WM 

***** 

The spirit of Wendil Moore walked casually through the deep forest of
Falls Hills. He was in no hurry. To his right was his wonderful Sara. 
After eight long years in death, she had finally reunited with her dear 
husband. Between the couple walked their four-year old son, Patrick. 
Wendil Moore's large hands were no longer scarred and disfigured from 
the deadly fire and one of them wrapped firmly around Patrick's small 
hand. Patrick had died in a raging house fire that occurred in the 
early hours of dawn in 1926. With horrid flames scorching at his hands 
only seconds separated Wendil Moore from grasping his son away from 
death‘s ugly grip. However, that was all the time the Dark Angel needed 
to swiftly seize Wendil and Sara's only child. In the dim ruins of the 
fire, not even a hint was ever found of the boy's ashes. The three 
strolled in the midst of a long rustic path. A cold, morning wind 
breezed lazily threw their hair, but they felt no chill. Their 
footsteps were as light as air, leaving no trace in the sparkling 
Christmas morning frost. Mr. Moore smiled as he pointed out to Sara and 
Patrick the many things that he loved in this forest. Then a slight 
frown grew to his face. “Hell, it could be pretty peaceful around here 
if they'd stop blowing those goddamn car horns.” 

Continued - Please see part 9


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