A Poor Man's Christmas

This is a bit of general fiction. None of my characters are here.
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In a certain city there lived a certain man who, throughout his long life, had served his country and assisted those in need. He fought in several wars, enlisting even after most his age were fine with a simple job or retirement; he gave to charities, donated toys, and did more things for the world than I could possibly list.

He also had a wife, who in turn had two children, although they had only been married for a year. The woman had been growing progressively more frustrated at her husband, partly due to his continual fighting against the Rich, who were unafraid of spreading their money amongst themselves but frowned at the mere suggestion that the money could be used in other manners.

The man was once like the Rich, back when he was but a teenager -- a greedy sort, only out for himself, with little care for anyone around him unless it furthered his own gains. That is, until he was drafted for the first time...

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During one fateful night, the enemy dropped a bomb which killed all of the other soldiers and wounded the man severely. Unable to move or speak, and feeling as if the hands of Death were closing upon him, the man suddenly felt a hand touch his shoulder. Looking up, he saw a young girl holding a glass of water, and almost instinctively opened his mouth to receive the drink. The water dulled his pain long enough for the girl to help him up and back to the shelter, where she tended to his wounds and remained with him until the day he was rescued -- the day that war ended.

But when the man and his superior turned back inside the shelter to take the girl with them (by his request), she had disappeared. While the superior would have normally dismissed the whole sequence of events as being a hallucination, he could not help but notice that his subordinate's demeanor and attitude had changed significantly.

The girl's kindness was not lost on the man of our story; a guardian angel, perhaps...? And he never knew her name...

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So the man, now honorably discharged, began devoting his life to spreading that kindness to others. And all through that time, he continued to notice that the Rich did nothing for the poor, but rather treated themselves and boasted of themselves. The Rich had power; they had pull; they had respect. And it was always at its most obvious, and obnoxious, around Christmastime.

So he fought them. He spoke in the meetings, he vied for the wealthiest to be taxed the most, and always pointed out that the Rich were never truly happy. But while he knew better than to seek out recognition for what he had done, and had never been particularly wealthy, it nonetheless hurt him to be ignored time and again ever since he had been discharged the first time.

It was on December 24 when, after yet another day of work cleaning up the city streets (the only work he could get, and the city paid very little), he came home to find his wife and children staring at him, suitcases packed and the home completely empty. The woman explained that she was getting a divorce because their one-year marriage had not worked out -- she had thought that, having seen his giving ways, marrying such a man would mean that she would make quite a bit of money. While he loved them, they never loved him.

So they walked out, going straight to the homes of the Rich, who welcomed the three with open arms and lavish Christmas gifts. The man was left alone, old and penniless, but nonetheless knew that they would not be truly happy.

And he walked, as there was nothing else to do, to the tallest building in the city. As he entered the elevator, the man found himself surrounded by some of the Rich, who merely snickered at his ragged clothes and clear depression before beating him up because...well, because they were the Rich and could afford to defend themselves. Not like they expected the man to accuse them.

It was on top of the building where he got out, bloody and bruised on top of the depression which was enveloping him. Standing on the edge of the building, holding the flagpole for stability, and listening as the clock struck Midnight, he looked back on his life and remembered the girl who helped him so long ago.

His guardian angel.

Knowing the Rich would never be truly happy, the man stepped off the ledge, picturing the angel all the while.

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And for the first time in his life, the man made headlines, mentioned by name across the globe. In the homes of the Rich, the wealthy read the story aloud to all around them...and they laughed.

For now, they were truly happy.