My Wish For Christmas

CHAPTER 4

I stared out the frosted windshield, my breath puffing into the icy air. The snowstorm was relentless, hammering the world around me with its unforgiving force. My fingers throbbed with cold, even though I had stuffed them into my pockets alongside the hand warmers.

“What am I supposed to do?” I muttered to myself, my voice shaky with a mix of panic and cold. I couldn’t stay in the car—it was barely warmer than the tundra outside. But stepping into the blizzard? That was a different kind of madness.

I pressed my forehead against the steering wheel, the cold metal biting against my skin. My thoughts raced. Would anyone even drive by in this storm? This stretch of highway was practically a ghost town on good days. Now? It felt like I had been dropped into some survival horror movie.

I sat up, looking out into the white abyss again, when I saw something. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, the swirling snow creating shapes where there were none. But no—there it was again. A figure.

A man.

He moved steadily through the storm, his silhouette blurred by the falling snow. He looked out of place, almost surreal, like he had been dropped here from another world. But as he got closer, I could see it: he was carrying a nylon bag, its contents weighed down heavily like groceries.

“What the…” I whispered, leaning closer to the window. What kind of person goes grocery shopping in a blizzard?

For a moment, relief swept over me. This was it—my chance! I would flag him down, and he would help me. But then a thought hit me, just as quickly: Stranger danger.

The phrase rang in my head, echoing the warnings drilled into me as a kid. But I was far from being a child, and this wasn’t a casual trip to the mall. I was freezing to death in the middle of nowhere, and this man was the first and only hope I had seen.

I grabbed the car handle, intending to open the door and call out to him, but it wouldn’t budge. My fingers fumbled, tugging and pulling at the latch, but it was frozen solid.

“Come on!” I hissed, yanking with all my strength. It didn’t move.

The panic started to creep in, crawling up my throat and settling into my chest. I banged on the window, yelling at the top of my lungs. “Hey! Hey, over here! Help me!”

The man didn’t turn. He just kept walking, oblivious to my cries. My throat burned from shouting, but the sound was swallowed by the howling wind.

“Please!” I banged on the glass again, my palms stinging from the impact. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the cold making them spill over almost instantly. I was desperate, and I hated it.

Just as I was about to give up, he stopped. The man turned slowly, his head tilting as if he had finally heard something. My heart leaped into my throat as I started waving frantically, the movement making the cold bite even harder into my fingers.

He stood there for a moment, staring, and then he began walking toward me. Relief flooded through me so quickly that I almost forgot how dire the situation was.

As he got closer, I noticed how heavily bundled he was. Layers upon layers of clothing, a scarf wrapped around his face, and a hat pulled low. He looked more like a puffed-up marshmallow than a man, and even from a few feet away, his features were impossible to make out.

When he finally reached the car, I could see the tension in his body as he leaned down to look at me through the window. His gloved hands gestured for me to roll it down, but I shook my head, pointing at the frozen door.

He nodded, his movements deliberate and steady, and then he pulled something from his bag. I couldn’t see what it was, but before I knew it, he was working on the door handle with practiced ease.

A loud crack echoed through the storm as the door finally gave way, and I felt a rush of icy wind hit me like a slap to the face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deep and rough, muffled by the layers covering his face.

“I—I’m freezing,” I stammered, teeth chattering so hard I could barely form the words. “Thank you. I didn’t think anyone would come by.”

He nodded once, glancing at the interior of my car. “You shouldn't stay here. It’s too cold. It's best if you head back home?”

“I can't,” I admitted, wrapping my arms around myself. “My house is miles from here, and I’m stuck. Please… I can’t stay here. Can you—can you take me with you? Just for the night?”

The hesitation in his body language was obvious. His eyes, the only visible part of his face, narrowed slightly. “Where do you live?”

“About thirty minutes down the highway,” I said quickly. “But there’s no way I’ll make it there in this weather. Please, I’ll pay you just don’t leave me here.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, the silence stretching between us like the endless snow outside.

Then he sighed, his breath visible even through the scarf. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Relief crashed over me like a wave, and I nearly sobbed. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

But as I climbed out of the car and into the blizzard, one thought nagged at the back of my mind: how much would it cost to repair my car? probably alot.

But I shoved down the thought and followed him through the snow, my legs barely cooperating as the cold seeped deeper into my bones. The wind whipped around us, and I could barely keep my footing, but he moved with purpose, leading the way like he had done this a hundred times before.