Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance)

A man rose with me. At least, I thought he was a man. A golden flame surrounded his face and rose above his head. The glow waved in this swirling pattern, never stopping. His head looked like the top of a lit candle. His skin was a dark bronze that glimmered in the starlight. He wore a pale blue robe that continuously shifted from side to side as if the garment lived too.

We rose higher.

Shocked, I pointed at him. “Who are you?”

“Your mother told you about me.”

“Y-you mean the other dream? That wasn’t real?”

“What is a dream?”

“It’s a. . .” I looked down and saw the Earth below my feet. “Holy shit!”

“I kindly ask you not to speak that way. We don’t need any other entities coming for this lesson.”

I hugged myself, not knowing what else to do. “Lesson?”

“Your mother called us all for a sort of symposium of the soul. Your soul, actually.”

“This is a weird fucking dream.”

“Your mother did a lot to get all of our favors.” He grinned. Those white eyes brightened. “She’s an amazing woman.”

We rose higher through the sky until the Earth became small and nonexistent.

He stuck his hand into his robe. It must’ve been a pocket or something. He pulled out a long crystal key. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

I was still taking everything in. “Um. . .yes. . .I guess.”

We stopped rising and remained suspended in the air.

He pushed the key into the night sky. When he did, I couldn’t see the point of the key. I tilted my head, watching in fascination. He twisted the key. A white door formed in front of us. A black knob appeared. He grabbed and turned it.

The door opened.

“What the. . .I mean. . .” I peeked in.

A new reality existed inside. It was some sort of distant land—deserted but full of more doors. But there were no walls or foundation for them. They were just doors on a distant land all lined up together. They all had different colors and types of knobs. A burning red sky was above the doors and it kept swirling over and over. In the middle of the swirling was a small ball of white light.

He gestured at all the doors. “Let’s go.”

“W-what is this?”

“Your lesson.”

“I. . .I mean what is that place.”

“Your lesson.” He gestured for me to walk through.

Swallowing, I mumbled to myself as I walked through. “It’s just a dream. A really cool dream.”Chapter 8

I Won’t Be Home for ChristmasI slowly walked in the middle of a long path of doors. They were unattached to any foundation. They simply stood there.

The deep voice sounded behind me. “Pick a door.”

I looked over my shoulder. He was right next to me although I hadn’t sensed him so close. I turned back to the doors. “Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter. The one you choose is the one you’re supposed to walk through.”

“What if it isn’t?”

“Life is a choice. There are no wrong picks. Just destiny or lessons.”

I shook my head, not liking his answer. “Where is this place?”

“Your lesson.”

“Jesus Ch—”

“Please, don’t do that.”

I sighed. “Sorry.”

“He’s busy enough.”

“Oh.” I raised my eyebrows. “So, there’s a heaven?”

“There’s everything.”

“Meaning?”

“Pick a door.”

I walked down the path. All the doors looked different. There were tons of wooden ones. I spotted a few metal doors. Some were glass although I couldn’t see anything within them. The further I strolled forward, the stranger the doors began to get. One was shaped like a triangle. Another formed into a star. I was about to go to that one, but for some reason the door on the right caught my attention.

It was mounted on brass and formed a large circle, reminding me of an antique mirror. I walked up to it and looked at the knob. It was gold with silver carvings of flowers imposed on the top, resembling something out of the French Renaissance.

The odd man stood on my side. “You picked this one?”

I nodded.

“Open it.”

I reached my hand out and grabbed the beautiful knob. Before I could turn it, I was sucked into the door. White light surrounded me. An image stood in front of me, rippling like it was made from water. Not sure of what else to do, I walked toward it and then stepped out of the rippling reflection.Blinking my eyes, I took in my surroundings.

Wait. What?

For a moment, I was frozen in shock. I was in the living room of my childhood home. My brain couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. In front of me, a younger version of me opened presents while my mother and father sat on the couch. My mother leaned against him while he looked into his cellphone.

An ache hit my heart as I watched Younger Me search for more of her presents to open. So many happy memories filled my head—my father giggling and dancing with my mother as I twirled around them, helping my father decorate the tree, and watching my mother cook Christmas dinner.