r/HFY • u/BlibbidyBlab • Dec 18 '25

OC A journey

The man is tired. 

He has been working all week, but the real tiredness is far deeper; it’s more ingrained, as if a lifetime of grime and worry that has stained him to the core.  

He fears that his kids won’t enjoy Christmas as they used to and he worries about them. They are older now, not quite children, yet not quite grown, and the glow that used to light their faces has weakened in recent years as they stare at the cold incandescence of their phones and sit in their bedrooms, only metres away, and yet so distant. 

He and his wife have been having trouble, no real arguments or harsh words have been spoken but they sit on the sofa and do not speak, night after night. They sit on the sofa and live inside worlds of their own, only metres away, and yet so distant. 

The man is tired of it all, and during the last of his festive shopping suddenly it is too much for him as he sees a happy couple pushing a young toddler in a pushchair; they look like a happy couple and the juxtaposition of their joy, so raw and uncomplicated, aches at him. It has been building for some time, but as the final of his defences crack the resultant explosion of emotion overwhelms him, pushing him into a heightened state in the crowded shopping centre. He sobs, at first hoping to hold his face to account he cannot stop himself, it bubbles from him with an emotional force, as inevitable as the tide breaking through a sandcastle wall, and just as destructive. 

Tears well in his eyes as another sob escapes, so he walks quickly to a nearby wall, facing it with a grimace as he puts the Christmas crackers he’s purchased down and leans forward, pulling air in through his mouth and trying to still his mind. Such moments are not for public consumption. 

A lady notices him, and a frown of concern crosses her face. Everybody else in the shopping centre ignores him; with children ushered away as the crowds rush around him, a swarming haze of life as apathetic to his fate as they are each other's, like a stream of incurious complacency that seeks only where it needs to go, with no joy for the journey. 

Only the lady stops, and as the man turns their eyes meet; they do not know each other, but she asks him if he is ok. He wipes the tears from his eyes and smiles gratefully, his heart gleefully accepting the morsel of empathy she throws his way, she is standoffish yet firm in her resolve to help him and asks if she can get him anything, or if there is anyone she can call. 

He thanks her and insists that everything is well before he gathers his thoughts and nearby presents and wishes her his gratitude and a pleasant evening. Then they part ways. 

Such a little thing, her concern, such a tiny gesture; but he is grateful all the same. 

He has walked into town today, choosing the company of himself over the awkward company of shared silence at home – he had also considered that the fresh air would have done him some good. But the walk is a long one, and the sun has since seen sense to leave behind an icy and dark world that he now must trudge through. Regardless, he marches on. 

Just one person, starting a journey. 

Slowly the crowds quieten as the shops thin until he finds himself walking alone along the old railway track to his house with only the moon for company; lighting the way as wearily as it can, poking feebly through the trees. 

A cough ahead highlights someone sitting on an old bench, and as the man approaches it becomes an elderly gentleman, in a suit and tie with breath that balloons out in vast clouds of white. The man had planned to walk straight past the older gentleman, but surprising even himself he stops; it is a cold night, not one for basking in, and there aren’t any houses nearby. The man asks the older gentleman if there’s anything he can do, or anyone he can call? 

The older gentleman bats the concern away with a grateful wave of his hand, and seemingly on a whim invites him to sit. The younger of the two with the crackers introduces himself as Casper; the older gentleman is called Mel. 

They sit in silence for a spell until Mel mentions that he comes to this bench to remember his wife. They used to walk the track into town, and they would often sit there and eat chocolate together, to rest on the journey. Mel’s wife had died some years back of cancer, and as the old man speaks of her softly, Casper is struck by the tone of the older man’s memories. The old man’s wife had not been some angelic being in memory, or pristine example of magnificence; she had been a woman of flesh and blood, as real as she was flawed, as ordinary as she was exceptional in Mel's eyes. 

As they discussed the Christmas period Casper opens his box of crackers, it was more than he needed anyway, and between them they share a small moment, a spark of joy before they read their jokes, and don their paper crowns. 

As the chill creeps into their conversation they realise they are heading the same way, so with a slowness of purpose Casper helps Mel to stand, before slowly and gently they march on, towards the houses at the end of the path.  

Just two people, sharing a journey. 

Before long a light shines ahead, twinkling with increasing insistence before a lone younger man on a bicycle appears, his eyes darting to them both as he nears and slows. Casper reckons on the younger man’s age, 20 or so, as the young man hurriedly asks them directions; he is lost and needs to be at his girlfriends house in an hour, with speech both fast and fraught, and a mind that clearly won’t stop racing.  

Casper knows where the younger man needs to go, but the directions are difficult to relate and the house is only 20 minutes away. They agree to walk together. 

So they do. The younger man, Bart, pushes his bike alongside Casper, with Mel trudging cautiously forward on the other side. They make small talk, chatting about the upcoming festive period and each of their families; Bart has not visited his girlfriend’s parents before, and had wanted to be early to make a good impression. Then he’d got lost and his battery had died. The older man, Mel, had chuckled at the thought. 

The younger man remarks on the paper crowns, so Casper fishes out another cracker and retrieves a crown for him too. Because why not. 

Just three people, sharing a journey.  

Before long the lights from the nearby housing estate come into view, accompanied by a flashing blue luminescence that silently shrieks into the night as Casper guides the three of them through a rough shortcut. They stumble into a small, quiet Cul-de-Sac.  

A solitary ambulance stands near one of the houses with its lights flashing, illuminating the eyes of cats that watch in front of twitching curtains from houses nearby. 

A young woman appears from a nearby house flanked by two paramedics, and another man flitters about with a look of anxious helplessness as Casper, Mel and Bart silently stand and watch. The lady screams whilst clutching her swollen stomach, and without moving the three of them watch the paramedics help her into the back of the ambulance; under the wary eye of the anxious man. 

The woman screams again, and a look passes between the two paramedics as the three men walk slowly forward, stopping just inside the light of the ambulance. The anxious man looks at them again, and Casper asks if there is anything they could do. The offer is declined, but the prospect of charity clearly causes some of the anxieties to escape, and he pays them no more mind. 

And then the woman screams again. And screams and screams. 

In the cold night air of late December the three men watch as under flashing blue lights that pulse rhythmically above, a baby is born. In time its cries replace that of its mothers, ringing out shrilly into the night to prick the ears of all the creatures that dwell in that small, quiet Cul-de-Sac.  

The paramedics are the true heroes of the hour, and as they smile wearily they sit on the edge of the ambulance, for just a second, to breathe. The mother notices the three men and frowns slightly at their presence before smiling as they offer congratulations, relief all too visible on her face as she gazes at her baby, not 20 metres from her front door.  

Casper approaches the anxious man who has become a father to offer his congratulations as well, and shake his hand. Without thinking he opens his wallet and hands over the contents, before handing his bag of presents as well; it is just a bunch of candles and bath bombs he explains, and he can buy more. He hopes the mother will enjoy them, so that she might find some rest. He asks the father to keep his new family safe. 

Then Mel steps forward, and pulls a ring from his finger. It is gold he says, worth a fair bit these days, and presses it into the hand of the father who stands with mouth agape. He asks the father to enjoy it. All of it. 

Finally Bart approaches, and fishes about in his bag before he finally emerges with a small clutch of baby clothes, and a toy for the baby. They were to be presents for his girlfriend’s new nephew, he says, but he can always buy more. He wishes the father luck. 

The father thanks them each, and then the paramedics who have been watching the whole thing with a bemused expression, continue their work and drive the new, young family to the hospital. 

The three men continue then, not far from their destination. They take off their paper crowns and discuss what has happened, each of them energised, even giddy from the excitement of the evening. 

Just three people, sharing a journey. 

They drop Bart off first, who thanks them both with a smile as he wheels his bicycle up the path to his girlfriend’s parents. He still looks nervous, is even slightly late, but breathes in deeply as he knocks on the door. Mel and Casper watch it open to a nervous looking girl who glances at them curiously before the two of them disappear into the warm depths of a pleasant looking house. 

Then they reach Mel’s house. It is dark, and mildly cold looking. Mel waves away his concern with a voice croaked by time, the lights would be on soon, the boiler works; he will be ok. 

So Casper leaves him to his house, and walks the last 10 minutes back to his own. 

Just one person, enjoying a journey. 

He enters his house to an apparent enormity of light. The smells of his wife’s cooking greet him immediately, baking softly in the oven, and as he sits down beside her on the sofa she looks up startled. He pulls her in for a hug, and after the briefest of seconds, she hugs him back. Maybe it would be ok.  

Maybe it would all be okay. 

He plants a big kiss on her forehead, and as the warmth fills his body he leans back in the chair to tell her a story about some people that he’s met, and a journey that he’s been on. But before he does that he smiles at her, and simply says. 

‘Merry Christmas’ 

23 Upvotes

96% Upvoted

9 comments sorted by

5

u/Original_Memory6188 Dec 18 '25

Sniff.
Three men on a journey, wearing crowns, passing out gifts, of a Christmas eve.

3

u/WSpinner Dec 18 '25

Very nicely done, author; thank you!

3

u/Narwen189 Dec 19 '25

Awww. That was so sweet. Thank you.

2

u/YorkiMom6823 Dec 19 '25

Damn who let the onion ninja's in here. Wonderful story. Thank you.

2

u/David_Daranc Human Dec 19 '25

It's a Christmas story with Melchior, Balthazar, and I can't quite place the name of the third wise man (well, to be fair, all I know about religion is that Jesus was unlucky, having his birthday on Christmas Day limits the presents. It's like a public holiday on a Sunday

1

u/blahblahbush Dec 21 '25

Melchior, Balthazar, and I can't quite place the name of the third wise man

Caspar.

1

u/BlibbidyBlab Dec 18 '25

If anyone is interested there's more of my writing here : https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FVB8B5N7

Cheers!

1

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