[Contest Entry] Mr. Ranger

This time of year was always special, and not in the traditional way either. In school the other kids would get excited because Santa was coming to give them free toys, but I didn't care about some burglarizing fat man in a red suit. He could break into and do whatever he wanted in any house he wanted; I didn't care.

This time of year was special because it was the only time that without fail I would get to see my dad.

A small figure sat before the front door of a modest-sized house, twiddling its thumbs as it waited patiently late into the night. The clock on the wall ticked the seconds by with unbreakable precision, chimes indicating to the waiting child when an hour had passed.

The chimes had rung six times so far, but the child hadn't moved an inch, for the door in front of him still sat closed. He promised himself he would finally stir when it opened. He glanced to the face of the clock and saw a single vertical line pointing to the twelve. It was midnight. Christmas. It was Christmas and the door still hadn't opened. He looked back to the door, but his lower lip wavered and his shoulders shook. He opened his mouth and a whisper barely crawled out.

“Dad?”



“Hey Nylan don't you have a flight to catch?” a voice called out to a man pacing in a dark barracks room, a phone to his ear. He turned to see a man with ACU pants and a horse head, a red “F” and exclamation point stitched into the pocket of the pants.

“Gimme a minute, man.” Nylan hissed through his teeth, careful not to talk too loudly in case someone picked up. He didn't think they would though. After all, it was Christmas already.

The horse-headed man shrugged and left the room, trotting down the hallway screaming in Japanese.

Nylan sat down and ran his hand over his scalp as he listened to the dull ringing sound in his cell phone. The tone repeated itself time after time until finally cutting out. He heard the click of the receiver being picked up, and a soft voice spoke into the receiver.

“Hello?”

“H-hey, kiddo. What're you doing up this late? Santa ain't coming if you're up this long.”

“I don't care about Santa. I was waiting for you. When are you coming home?” The innocent voice's simple question caused Nylan's heart to ache, and he rubbed his hand over his head again, an unconscious nervous reaction.

“Listen...Mr. Ranger might not be coming home this year.” He used the name his son used to call him to try and ease what followed directly after. He felt terrible dropping this on a six-year-old, but his son deserved to know.

Silence dominated the other end of the line, then the voice came back. “Why?”

Nylan cursed himself silently and lowered the phone from his face as he pondered his next words.

“I'm going somewhere else. I have to.”

“Where?”

“I—I'm off on an adventure.” He said, glancing to the map of North Korea across the room from him.

“Can I come, Dad?”

“I wish you could, kiddo, I really do, but it's too dangerous. That's why they're making me do it.”

“Because you're strong?”

“....Yeah. Listen. I have to go, but I'll call your mom and tell her the same tomorrow. You be good, okay? I'll be home real soon.”

“Promise?”

Nylan bit his lower lip and clicked the 'call end' button. He couldn't lie to his son anymore.

“I'm on my way to heaven.” He whispered the truth to himself, then grabbed his pack and left the room, slamming the door behind him.



Seven men fired rifles into the air in front of the boy, who flinched all three times they discharged. Next to the men a casket rested with a folded American flag on top of it, and a picture of a peacefully smiling man in a dress uniform gazed back at him. He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to her crying face that he knew matched his own. He turned back to the coffin and felt tears run down his cheeks.

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