Oilstain. By D.A.

Matt was tired. The day had been long and stressful at the end of a long and stressful week. The Friday-afternoon euphoria which normally overtook him at 5.30 had not materialised and he trudged homewards with a heavy heart.

“Christmas” he thought. “Why do we have to go through all this business every year? It’s always a hassle. Buying presents for people you don’t know, presents for people you don’t like, but worst of all buying presents for people you do like, people you love. That’s the hardest part.”

The back streets were unusually dark, heavy cloud obscured the sky, a slight mistiness adding to the gloom. Even the brightly lit decorations which he glimpsed through windows as he passed could not lift his spirits. “So much to do.. I’ve got too much to do, and I haven’t even started!”

He sat down on a wall, his head in his hands, and stared at the pavement. All life seemed to have drained from his body, he was unsure if he could actually stand up again. He was unsure if he cared.

As his eyes drifted in and out of focus he found himself starting at an oil stain on the road. The meagre light which spilled from a nearby street-lamp was split into rainbow colours by the oil film on the damp tar. It seemed so much more beautiful than the gaudy Christmas lights round the corner in the high street; so much more genuine than the hollow sentiments pumped out by the PA systems in the shops.

So much more Christmassy.

“Real stuff.” He thought. “Real love, real friendship, real hope, that’s what I need for Christmas, not baubles and the Ronnettes!”.

“Too right mate!” came a voice.

Matt started. The oil stain had gone. He looked around. Beside him stood a boy, aged maybe 12, in a rainbow scarf and hat, carrying a lantern on a pole.

“Come on!” he commanded “We’re gonna get your Christmas sorted out.”

The pair strolled down the road. They went to the shops, the boy pointed out gifts that would suit Matt’s mum, his dad and his girl.

Matt was amazed. These weren’t expensive items, just the right things. Stuff they might actually like.

As they walked from shop to shop Matt’s energy seemed to return, exactly the opposite of what normally happened when he went Christmas shopping. They talked excitedly about his friends and family, their likes and dislikes, their hopes and dreams. The boy seemed to know them already

Matt arrived home in bouyant mood, he rang up some friends. “Let’s go out for a Christmas drink.” Then he thought about the boy. He couldn’t take him into a pub, but where was he anyway? They’d been together when they'd walked up to the front door but now he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Matt looked out of the window, the street was deserted. Then his eyes settled on an oil stain on the damp road, its rainbow colours seeming too intense to have been generated by the feeble street light.

As he watched, a dejected figure shuffled round the corner, sat on his garden wall and stared blankly into the road.

“Go to it fellah!” thought Matt and smiled to himself. “It’ll be a great Christmas!”

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