The Accidental Christmas

By Michael J. Alcorn

Richard Hardgrub was a grey man in a grey world. When the world stole his wife from him through cancer, he turned his back on the world in retreated to his own private sanctuary of sadness. Unfortunately, that left him frequently unaware of his surroundings, including the car that lost control and struck him as he walked on the sidewalk.

When he wakes up, Richard finds that it is Christmas Eve, and the normal church service he attends (once every year) has been moved into the slums of the city. Out of habit, Richard follows the congregation as they move into the city and begin to minister to the people at “the bottom of the world.” Here he meets a veteran, forgotten by a society who did not need him any more; here he also meets a generous, if frazzled, shelter operator who sees in him what Richard has tried to hide from the world; here he also meets a woman, abandoned by a man (by a society?), desperately fighting against pride and isolation to keep her family alive and together; here he also meets a boy named Joshua, who, in spite of the world being stacked against him, still fills the concrete canyons with laughter and hope.
In the middle of this dark and drab world is a church service, in which the children leave under the Christmas Tree their most treasured possessions, and the preacher challenges the congregation to redeem the children’s Faith. And then the preacher delivers a very personal message to Richard: return to the world, son.

Richard reawakens in a hospital bed, not sure if what he has seen is real or a pain-induced hallucination. But when his estranged daughter shows up at his bedside and introduces him to his grandson, he realizes that God has given him a second chance—and it’s one that he is not going to miss!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael J. Alcorn
• Release date: Nov 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310199561

Michael J. Alcorn

The first thing you need to know about this author is that the most important title I hold is “family man.” I have been married to my wife, Sheryl, for almost 20 years, and we have three amazing children who motivate and inspire me every day. We live in Arvada, Colorado, a suburb of Denver, close to where we both grew up.My second title is “teacher:” I have been a public school music teacher for 23 years, after earning degrees from the University of Colorado and the University of Northern Colorado. Actually, writing is a relatively recent development, starting with political blogging and doodlings about 14 years ago. That passion has grown over the years, leading to the completion of a collaborative self-help book in 2009 ["Get It"], a regular column on culture and life for The Arvada Press starting in 2011, periodic contributions to the Denver Post as a “Colorado Voices” columnist, and, now, four novels.In my free time, I am a personal trainer and fitness enthusiast, a martial artist, and a bad golfer (aren't we all?). We worship at the Arvada Covenant Church, where I am a member of the worship team.

Book preview

THE ACCIDENTAL CHRISTMAS

BY MICHAEL ALCORN

The Accidental Christmas

Smashwords Edition.

Copyright © 2013 by Michael J. Alcorn

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, or transmitted in any form, without written permission from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Michael K. Ikeya

Source photo by Robert Linder

Visit us on the web at MichaelJAlcorn.com

This work represents the time, energy, and creativity of the author. While it was a joy and a blessing to write, it is also the author’s livelihood. If you enjoy this story, pass our information along, but not the book.

Merry Christmas!

This book is dedicated to the most precious gifts I have ever been given, the people who redeem my Hope and my Faith every day of every year: my children,

Elizabeth, Cassandra and Joseph.

And to the person who gave me those gifts, who is 99% responsible for them being the amazing people that they are, and who is the solid ground in my life that I can always find my way home to: my bride,

Sheryl.

This book would not exist without the encouragement, the editing, the "sounding

board"-ing, and the beta testing of my great friends Jay Charness and Steven Bishop.

And to my parents: every word,

every phrase, every sentiment, is from your influence.

~Michael

Table of Contents

RICHARD

THE HIGHLAND COMMONS

FRANCIS

RED

JOSHUA

THE BOTTOM OF THE WORLD

RICHARD

GRACE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BONUS

RICHARD

The pavement scrolled past under Richard Clement Hardgrub's feet, neither noting nor remembering his passage. His white tennis shoes, now faded to grey, continued to hit the pavement, out of time with the sandals all around; his dull, charcoal sweat pants in contrast to the bare ankles and calves sliding past.

He was out of sync with the world all around.

It hadn't always been that way. There was a time when someone walked beside him, her feet in time with his, her arm swinging his arm with joy, her footprints marking their passage. That was Mary. Mary was his connection to the world, Mary was his translator, what brought him into sync with the rest of the world. He never understood why she chose him, but, for a time, he resonated with life. Her life.

That ended that horrible season 15 years ago.

The memory of her inflated the pit in his chest, and he pulled his jacket closer to hold himself together. His head down, Richard picked up his speed to get away from her, from the memory of her, as if he could ever escape from emptiness. He tried to slide past the crowd, bumped a woman, spilling her drink on her tank top.

Sorry, he tried to mutter, half-turning, never meeting her gaze. Never meeting any gaze. Never noticing the look of shock on her face, the urgent gestures of her friends, or the squeal of car tires coming closer.

He turned forward just in time to see the streak of blue metal careening towards him over the curb.

For a split second, he noticed again his sneaker, still on his foot, still connected to his leg, but grotesquely turned the wrong direction. Then, all faded to black.

THE HIGHLAND COMMONS

When he woke up, the scene had changed. In the dim light, he could see his breath in front of him; when he pulled his jacket tighter now, it was his wool overcoat. He was walking along a different street, heading somewhere with a purpose, though he could not for the life of him remember what that was at the time. He could feel the wind cutting through on his legs, looked down to see his nice slacks and a nice pair of shoes. Must be going somewhere important.

The street was darker than it should have been, somehow grayer. He looked up at the street lights, saw that they were shrouded by wispy clouds blowing across their halos. The smell of wood smoke was strong and tangy in his nose, but it failed to convey a sense of hearth and home. Likewise, the sounds of the street were muted, distant, as if life on this street had stopped for the night, and the only sounds were cars from several streets over.

Bit by bit, his journey was joined by others, as side streets emptied onto the road he was traveling. Everybody seemed to be dressed similarly to him, and there was a feeling of hope and anticipation in the air which he recognized, though he could not share it. The children, in particular, seemed excited, almost to the point of hysteria.

What's with all this? Richard asked of nobody in particular. But, as strange as the scene was, something compelled him to keep walking, so he did.

Eventually, he turned a corner to see the church. St. Francis Community Church had been where he went every week as a child, and it looked very much as it always had. Clean, yellow bricks laid at perfect angles, the seams and joints in the architecture expertly hidden, the paint around the doors and windows impeccably maintained. The front entry was lined with perfect symmetry by Greek columns which led to the large, oaken double doors, which sat in the face of the two-story wall that housed the foyer and the choir loft, all of which tapered toward the four-story bell tower. The second story of the wall was adorned with 5 large stained-glass windows, which, at this time, were dark.

Richard wasn't sure what was bringing him to this place, as he hadn't been there in several months. This was the church from which his father had taught him about his Faith, a Faith which didn't survive into adulthood. Nonetheless, Richard still went through with the ritual of Easter and Christmas Eve services, at first just to see his dad