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 From Chapter Two of
"The Gift: A Christmas Story"
Mountains, the outstretched fingers of mother earth holding
her place within space and universe, are majestic visions from a distance, towering high into the clouds. At their base where
all is sheltered by her hand, some of us marvel at the peaks and seek to reach them, to touch the sky as she does. Others
simply enjoy the beauty of her hand and can only hope we are as strong, to be a mountain in the turmoil of life. Some of us
simply hope to survive.
How did I get here? Where am I? These questions torment me as I lay curled in the snow trying
to keep warm. I try to curl tighter against the onslaught of falling white flakes, hoping against hope to ward off the cold
as it seeps wet past my fur and chilling my skin beneath. Who am I? I have no memories. No past. All I know is I am very,
very cold lying here beneath snow-laden branches of trees, surrounded by huge drifts and blowing wind.
Ice, formed
from melted snow on a once warm body, now covers my back. I must move. Something tells me I must move or the life I have and
do not know will end here on the cold slopes of a mountain in nowhere. But where do I go? All is white powder covering wet,
fallen and decaying leaves beneath bare tree branches and a gray sky. I rise to my feet. My muscles are stiff and they ache.
There is something about this day I feel I should know, but like the rest of my body, my brain isn't working very well. I
shake off the ice as best I can and try to remember.
Down... Yes. That's it. I must move downward. Follow the hollows
to the brooks. These will lead me to the streams, and in turn the rivers. And rivers flow to the sea. Somewhere along this
chain will be life. All living things need water. I wonder for a moment how I know this as I look around through clouded,
weary eyes seeking to find the first link to follow.
The snow is deep. Each step is torture for my weak legs as I
plow against depths up to my muzzle, and sometimes higher, beginning my journey to who knows where. I can barely feel my paws
as I move. And cold though I may be, I am thirsty and my stomach hurts from lack of food. I am frightened. Not by some danger
nearby, but by my lack of understanding. I am frightened because I'm alone and I don't know how I got here. I am frightened
because I know I may freeze to death here in this remote wilderness of white. Will anyone or anything know? Or care?
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From Chapter Two of
"Grains of Sand: Trapped in the Now"
It was cold beneath the blankets covering a small
boy lying on a tattered bed, still wearing his worn out clothing from the night before to help fight the chill of another
winter night in a cold house. The hazy light of a cloudy sky was invading his sanctuary as he tried to think of more pleasant
things than the cold aching his feet through the dirty socks he wore. He slowly pulled the blankets down to look toward the
window of his room, cracked and partially covered with a sheet, being careful not to allow any more cold air in than necessary.
It was snowing lightly.
He resisted the urge of all young boys to jump up and see the new snow, knowing it
would be clean and white as it covered the depressing surroundings in the run-down neighborhood where he lived, a neighborhood
where he felt alone and isolated. It was Saturday. Another day with no friends to help him pass the time away from home. His
sister would be seeking her own escape. Though he fought with his sibling, he loved her dearly. Both knew what they had to
contend with and understood each other's attempts to be anywhere, anyplace other than here. Even attending school was better.
At least it was warm.
He thought back to the day before, remembering the humiliation he suffered at the hands of the
other children on that particular day. The cold had forced him to wear new shoes. ...girl's shoes. His old, worn out boots
could no longer keep the weather out. Torn, with holes that folded newspapers could no longer cover, the old boots kept more
water in than out. With the girl's shoes being the only alternative, he made the old boots last as long as he could, knowing
what would happen when he wore these shoes to school for the first time. They were not bad shoes for hand-me-downs. They were
lined against the winter weather and were not a bad alternative to what he used to have. If the other kids would just leave
him alone.
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The words you've just read are the actual, unedited paragraphs as they were submitted to the publisher.
This was only the start of the chapters.
Reader reviews of "The Gift: A Christmas Story" at Barnes and Noble, Amazon.com, Borders, Page One Books
as well as Amazon.de are all solid five star reviews, without exception.
Come join Mr. Carroll and his very real friends in this story for a holiday you won't forget.
Mr. Carroll has also been a guest writer for the Humor Columnist, Sheila Moss (The Tennessee Firefly). The
address for her site is: http://www.humorcolumnist.com or you can click the link to her site on the "Family" page.
OTHER BOOKS MR. CARROLL IS CURRENTLY WORKING ON:
"Short Stuff" - an anthology of essays, poems, and quotes, some humorous, some thought-provoking.
Because of the popularity of the "flashback" chapters in his first book, "Grains of Sand", Mr. Carroll has
decided to write a story along those lines titled "When Comes The Fall" - contemporary general fiction.
"The Gift: A Christmas Tail" - Drafting of this sequel to "The Gift: A Christmas Story" has begun as well
as planning for the third book, "The Gift: Samantha's Hope" which is the only one of the series that is based on a true story.
Unfortunately, the first book, "A Christmas Story" will go out of print in 2006, the paperback first then the hardcover.
Thank you for visiting. If "The Gift: A Christmas Story" interests you most of the Banners and Links on
this site will take you to retailers who carry it. Any major bookstore can also order it using ISBN 1587213826 for the softcover
and ISBN 1414005946 for the harcover. Retailers who also carry this book, for which links have not been provided, are Walmart
(http://www.walmart.com), Borders (http://www.borders.com), Fatbrain (http://www.fatbrain.com), Indigo of Canada (http://www.indigo.ca),
Amazon of Japan (http://www.amazon.co.jp), Flying Pig of New Zealand (http://www.flyingpig.co.nz), Amazon of France (http://www.amazon.fr),
and many more around the world.
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"The Gift: A Christmas Story" has a registered copyright in the name of R. Louis Carroll. Copyright
registrations for "Grains of Sand: Trapped in the Now" and "Short Suff" are pending. Use of any phrases, photos, or
comments on this pages is strictly prohibited without prior approval of the author.
Send questions or comments about this website to jacar2@earthlink.net
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