Mr. C stares at the sign and sighs. Still gone as it has been for 50 years. He’s stranded in this desolate place as his brain kept wandering back to that fateful night. What went wrong? “I triple-checked that spirit-meter, didn’t I?” He muttered.
“Are you sure?” He remembered Mrs. C’s words that night as he pecked her on the cheek.
Almost through the night, the sleigh suddenly sputtered and lurched as the spirit-meter began draining like quicksand. “What in the world,” Mr. C muttered before crash-landing in the middle of the desert where the gateway to his home once stood.