Icicles hung from the porch of the cabin, fastened to the old wood by the breath of winter. Ducking beneath them, Henry scurried up the porch, his hands stiff from the cold as he reached out to open the door. A mountain man, he didn't shy from the weather easily, but today had an extra chill to it. Or maybe he was just getting old, his bones too bent for the work required of him when Christmas came calling.
Henry hadn't always lived in the mountains. When he was a young man, he lived in the city and wore a suit to work every day, but the clitter-clatter of the office forced him away from the skyscrapers and to the tranquility of nature. He enjoyed the solitude, but he was no hermit. The trees were a gift, one he wanted to share, and what better time to do so than at Christmas. With a swing of his ax, he loaded tree after tree into his truck to be delivered to the city, left on the doorsteps of those who could not afford one otherwise. Tomorrow, he would ride, the Christmas Tree Santa.
RE: STACH Short Story Contest #15: 199 words.|Christmas Special, everyone wins.