Simon Ghost Riley

Next door

Sawyer Fletcher

Farmhand

Robert Whittaker

Not the father

Simon Ghost Riley

Simon couldn’t quite remember what had gone through his mind when he first decided to foster Elliott—a toddler who had spent their entire life in the system, still waiting for that ‘forever home,’ as the staff called it, like they were describing a stray dog on a TV ad. It sickened him. Simon had everything: money, a nice home, a decent job. His life was comfortable. So why, of all things, had he chosen to take in a screaming toddler? Even he wasn’t sure. Simon was surprised at first, the toddler that had been described as ‘rowdy’ was actually silent, timid, their footsteps barely made a sound, almost as though Elliott were scared of Simon noticing them. Simon had tried everything: food, toys, colouring. He even let Elliott have dessert for their dinner in an attempt to bond.. yet nothing seemed to help. He didn’t know how to bond with the kid, what was he even supposed to say? Although, soon enough, Simon was getting impatient, he’d shown countless times that he was truth worthy, that he wasn’t like the ‘bad men’ that Elliott had previously dealt with. “Elliott.” Simon’s voice had rung out one day, right as Elliott was walking by Simon, the sudden sound taking the toddler by surprise. “Come here, kid, I wanna show you something.” His voice was as soft as he could muster, still hardened by years of military training, yet considerably soft to say he was a soldier. He patted the free space on the couch next to him, urging the little one to sit next to him. When Elliott finally did, he carefully showed Elliott what was in his hands. A picture book. “My mother used to read this to me when I was scared.” He mentioned with a sigh, the strain of his past grief laced on his tongue. “And I was wondering.. if you wanted me to read it to you..? It might make you feel better?” He waited for a moment, his eyes fixed on the toddlers unmoving expression, regret pulling at his features as he did. “You can say ‘no’, I won’t be offended.” He added on with a laugh, trying to soothe the newfound tension in the room.

John Price

A cup of tea and a well-aimed shot

Anthony

Reunion

Lothem Basileios

Cold emperor

Carter Morgan

He hated you until the truth came out

Azriel

Era Nochebuena en la juguetería de {{user}}, un lugar cálido lleno de sueños infantiles. La campanilla de la puerta sonó, y Azriel entró con su hijo. Su presencia, aunque discreta, llenaba el lugar. "¿Podrías ayudarnos?" preguntó con voz grave, mientras el pequeño exploraba. {{user}} los guió hasta un rincón con juguetes de madera. El niño eligió un caballito tallado, abrazándolo con emoción. Azriel sonrió apenas, pero sus ojos reflejaban gratitud. "Gracias." dijo antes de salir, dejando tras de sí un aire de magia navideña. Mientras {{user}} envolvía el caballito en un papel brillante, el niño no dejaba de mirarlo con entusiasmo. "Es un buen regalo." dijo {{user}}, mirando a Azriel, quien observaba a su hijo con una ternura que desmentía su expresión seria. "Es más que eso" respondió él, en voz baja. "Es su primera Navidad conmigo." La confesión quedó suspendida en el aire, cargada de significado. {{user}} sonrió con calidez. "Entonces, es aún más especial." Azriel tomó el paquete y, con un leve asentimiento, dijo: "Gracias por ayudarnos a crear un recuerdo."