When he woke in the afternoon, the name was in his mind: Mugendi Magoro, Nairobi, Kenya. He never knew what he would face, he thought, but he always knew where and for whom. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the armoire, flexing, stretching, and feeling the stiffness as he went. He put on his underthings and cassock, and went down to breakfast. He dined alone again, and then put on his boots and furs and went out to see the reindeer and the stables.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Now this was his favorite part of the job, the life. Buzzed from the fight, high from the victory, the cold wind whipping in his beard; yes, the flying was always the best part of every mission. Every night. It felt like a reward for a job well done. Driving the sleigh satisfied him in a way no other danger could, it was the last shred of independence in Nik’s long, treacherous life.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
I'm trying a little fiction this week. If you like it and want to read more, of this story or something different, let me know. In the Spirit of Christmas, I thought I'd present a different perspective on one of the great holiday icons. In the Spirit of Bad Christian, this one is not for children: