A 7-year-old boy brings a miracle to the life of a homeless man on Christmas Eve through his act of kindness.
Christmas is a sad season and meant only for the rich. The phrase came to Cameron in an instant after the crowd’s murmur jolted him awake and named him for the amorphous depression that had plagued him all evening.
It was snowing once again. The sky was still dark, and people were pouring in and out of the Walmart store where he was lying on a carton, cuddled up in an almost torn blanket and a black jacket, which he hadn’t changed in a long while.
Of all the millions of people in Florida, he was practically the only one who had decided to sleep early on Christmas Eve to avoid the constant pain he was feeling — partially due to betrayal he’d experienced and partially due to the bruises that had covered almost every inch of his face.
Cameron was begging outside a Walmart store | Photo: Shutterstock
Cameron was a wealthy pharmaceutical manufacturer in Texas, and he and his friend cum business partner Nicholas had been on their way to Florida for a business deal a few days ago. Little did Cameron know it was all a dirty ruse to get him out of the way, and he’d be in a terrible state one day.
The evening all this happened had started like any other. Nicholas had come to Cameron’s house to discuss the plan. They had agreed to meet someone on the outskirts of Florida who would lead them to the city’s central plant, where the pharmaceuticals they were interested in producing were manufactured.
As Cameron and Nicholas approached the plant’s outskirts, a man in his 30s approached Nicholas and asked him to exit their car alone. Nicholas told Cameron to stay inside.
Nicholas and the strange man stood at a distance from the car, talking about something, occasionally looking at Cameron and pointing to the building where they’d arrived. They soon walked away, with Nicholas motioning to Cameron that he’d be back shortly.
What are they even discussing? Why on earth would that man want to talk to Nicholas alone? Cameron’s mind raced with the most bizarre suspicions at their sight.
Cameron froze in shock when he answered Nicholas’ phone | Photo: Pexels
Suddenly, Nicholas’ phone, which he’d forgotten in the car, rang, and a shock ran through Cameron. The wallpaper on the phone was a picture of Nicholas and Cameron’s wife Linda kissing, and the contact that flashed across the screen was named “love.”
Is it possible this could be Linda? Should I pick up the call? Cameron was baffled.
Nevertheless, he answered it, and his suspicions were confirmed. “Hi honey, did you reach safely? Did you manage to get rid of that idiot Cameron?” the voice asked.
Cameron recognized it was Linda. It was her voice. And the deal that Nicholas had organized wasn’t a pharmaceutical one. It was all a plan to get rid of him, and Cameron realized it late.
He immediately got out of the car and began looking for a way out, but two men dressed all in black stood in his way. Nicholas and the strange man soon appeared from behind them, Nicholas smirking. “I’m sorry, Cameron. I didn’t have a choice. I’m hoping you’ll forgive me.”
Cameron was attacked and dumped on the outskirts of Florida by Nicholas | Photo: Pexels
That was all Cameron remembered when he opened his eyes one day and found himself in an underground tunnel in the outskirts of Florida. His wallet, phone, and money were all gone, and one side of his face was covered in dried blood.
It had probably been days since he’d been left alone there in the tunnel. Perhaps he’d been attacked on his head, hence, the blood, he reasoned.
He slowly left the area and climbed up, his head still throbbing from the pain, until he reached a highway where all he encountered were large spreads of crops and an eerie dead silence.
Fortunately, he soon encountered a kind truck driver who was on his way to the city to sell some of his produce and offered to give him a free ride to town as well as the old blanket he’d been using to keep warm.
Cameron somehow reached the city that day, but he didn’t know what to do after that. He was very weak and tired and barely made it to the nearest Walmart store. His stomach was grumbling with hunger, and he felt light-headed as if he would collapse.
Cameron was weak and tired | Photo: Pexels
At this point, Christmas was just a day away. Cameron had clenched his fists around his stomach, attempting to quiet its growling and alleviate the pain he was feeling. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten, but it had been several days because he was tired and exhausted.
Considering it was Christmas and a kind soul would help him out, Cameron opened his overcoat and folded it several times to make a bowl-like container out of it. He wrapped himself with the old blanket he had and sat there begging for food.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Can you please get me a loaf of bread?” he asked a woman who’d just come out of the Walmart store. She didn’t offer him anything; instead, she sneered at him for being homeless and then walked away.
The second person that walked past Cameron gave him a judgmental look, and a few others pulled their kids away, labeling Cameron as a “homeless freak,” advising them to stay away from him.
Poor Cameron’s eyes welled up. He lowered his head and tucked it in the circle of his hands, and started crying. Suddenly, a squeaky voice of a child interrupted him. “Please take this before my mommy finds out!” the child said.
A little boy came to Cameron’s rescue | Photo: Pexels
Cameron slowly lifted his head to see a boy of about 7 standing in front of him, holding a box of chocolates. “It’s Christmas, and everyone enjoys chocolate on Christmas. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do,” he said with a smile.
Cameron couldn’t stop crying at the boy’s sight. “Thank you very much, young man! You have no idea how much you’ve helped me!” He sobbed as he accepted the box.
“I have to leave now. Otherwise, mommy will scold me. Bye!” the boy said, preparing to leave, but as he turned around, he saw his mother standing behind him, her hands on her waist, giving him a stern look.
“How many times have I told you, Tom, not to leave my sight? There are so many people here, honey! You could get lost!”
“But mom!” Tom cried. “I was telling you something, but you weren’t listening to me!”
Tom offered chocolates to Cameron | Photo: Pexels
“Didn’t I buy the chocolates for you, Tom? What else do you want? Honey, you should know that I work very hard to support you. I already bought you your favorite toy car and chocolates.”
“No, mom!” Tom said. “It’s not about me. When we were coming to the store, I saw nobody was helping him, mom. So I bought the chocolates for him!” Tom pointed at Cameron, who was holding the chocolate box in his hands and looking intently at Tom and his mother, Jade.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know the boy troubled you for this. You can take it back,” Cameron said, returning the box, but Jade refused and instead offered him help.
“You look sick. You have so many injuries on your face. You can come with us, and we can get you checked,” she suggested.
“Thank you!” Cameron cried. “That’d be really sweet of you! But…Can you please lend me your phone…I – I need to…” Cameron had just started speaking when he felt disoriented, and grabbed his head, crying in pain. Looking at his condition, Jade drove him to the hospital, where the doctors informed her that Cameron would need to stay for a while due to a head injury that required treatment.
Cameron was unconscious, and Jade decided not to leave the man alone. She and her son stayed with Cameron that night in the hospital.
Jade offered to help Cameron | Photo: Unsplash
When Cameron awoke the next morning, he told his entire story to Jade, and with her help, he reported the incident to the police.
Jade visited him every day and looked after him while the cops were investigating his case. When Cameron was finally released from the hospital, Jade took him home and allowed him to stay with him as long as he wanted.
Cameron discovered that Jade was a single mother who had divorced her abusive husband. As they spent more time together, Cameron felt himself growing closer to Jade, and the two eventually fell in love. Cameron proposed to her, and the woman nodded a yes. However, Cameron requested that they marry after he had reclaimed what was rightfully his. Cameron took off to Texas to settle his case after Jade agreed.
However, when he arrived, he discovered that his company was on the verge of going bankrupt, and Nicholas and Linda had run away after squandering all of the money.
Cameron had to stay in Texas until the case was settled. It took a few months, but Linda and Nicholas were eventually found. They had been hiding in a remote area of Texas. Cameron filed for divorce from Linda as soon as the cops caught her. Wrapping up everything took another two months, but Cameron was glad his wife and his best friend paid for their sins.
Jade and Cameron lived happily ever after | Photo: Pexels
Cameron flew back to Florida, relieved that his ex-wife and friend had paid for their actions. He and Jade got married at a church and welcomed a baby girl soon after.
Cameron began a new life with Tom, Jade, and their little baby girl Angela, forgetting the ridiculous past and moving on with his life.
What can we learn from this story?
- One act of kindness can make a huge difference in someone’s life. Cameron’s life was transformed from a miserable one to a happy one, thanks to little Tom’s kindness of offering him chocolates on Christmas Eve.
- Learn to be helpful and kind. Little Tom helped Cameron without expecting anything in return, and that single act changed Cameron’s life forever.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about an old millionaire who leaves behind a gigantic $5.3 million mansion after his death, but there’s a twist: neither his wife nor his daughter inherits it.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
Sassy Neighbor Drove All the Tenants Crazy at Night – So We Found a Way to Give Her a Taste of Her Own Medicine
When Michelle moved in, she refused to follow one simple rule: bring your key. Instead, she pounded on my window at all hours, demanding to be let in. After countless sleepless nights, the other tenants and I came up with a plan to give her a taste of her own medicine.
I’ve always been a stickler for rules. Call me boring, but there’s something comforting about knowing where you stand. That’s why I loved living in our little apartment block on Maple Street.
A woman and her dog | Source: Midjourney
We had one golden rule: after 8 p.m., you always carry your key. Simple, right? Well, it was until Hurricane Michelle blew into our lives.
The day Michelle moved in, I should’ve known trouble was brewing. I was collecting my mail when she strutted up the path, wild red hair flying, and enormous sunglasses perched on her nose despite the cloudy day.
“Hey, new neighbors!” she called out, voice loud enough to wake the dead. “I’m Michelle! Who’s gonna help me with these boxes?”
A woman waving | Source: Midjourney
I exchanged glances with Matt from 2B. He shrugged, and we both headed out to lend a hand. As we lugged boxes up the stairs, Michelle chattered away.
“This place is so cute! It’s like, totally retro. I can’t wait to spice things up around here!” She winked at Matt, who nearly dropped a box labeled “PARTY SUPPLIES.”
“Yeah, well,” I puffed, struggling with what felt like a crate of bricks, “we like it quiet around here. Especially after 8.”
Michelle laughed, a sound like tinkling glass.
A laughing woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh honey, the night’s just getting started at 8!” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You’ll see, I’ll breathe some life into this place.”
I should’ve taken that as the warning it was.
For the first week, things were okay. Sure, Michelle’s music was a bit loud, and yeah, she had a habit of clattering up and down the stairs at all hours. But it wasn’t until the second Friday night that the real trouble started.
A woman in her home | Source: Midjourney
It was just past midnight when the first thump-thump-thump echoed through my apartment. My dog, Biscuit, lifted his head with a whine. I tried to ignore it, burying my face in my pillow. But then came the buzzing. It was incessant, like an angry hornet.
Groaning, I stumbled to the intercom. “Hello?”
“Heeeeey!” Michelle’s voice, slightly slurred, crackled through the speaker. “It’s me! I forgot my key. Can you let me in?”
An intercom entry phone | Source: Pexels
I sighed, pressing the button to unlock the main door. My apartment was on the ground level so I opened my door to remind her about the key rule.
“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver!” Michelle gushed, her breath reeking of tequila. “I was gonna be stuck out there all night!”
“Michelle,” I started, trying to keep my voice level, “remember the rule about always carrying your key after 8?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Pffft, rules are made to be broken, right? Besides, you’re right here! It’s no problem for you to let me in.”
A laughing woman | Source: Midjourney
“Well, actually…”
But there was no point in saying anything more. Michelle had already clattered up the stairs and disappeared, leaving me standing in the foyer, fuming.
I wish I could say that was a one-time thing. But over the next few weeks, it became a nightly occurrence.
Sometimes she’d bang on windows, other times she’d ring every buzzer in the building until someone let her in.
A woman in front of a staircase | Source: Pexels
It didn’t matter if it was 10 p.m. or 3 a.m. — Michelle seemed to operate in her own time zone.
One particularly frustrating night, I was jolted awake by a rhythmic tapping on my bedroom window. Groaning, I glanced at my alarm clock: 2:37 a.m.
“Adrienne! Adrieeeeenne! Wake up, sleepyhead!”
That was the last straw for Biscuit, who ran over to the window and started yapping. I stumbled out of bed. Pulling back the curtain, I was met with Michelle’s grinning face, illuminated by the streetlight.
A woman at a window | Source: Pexels
“Michelle!” I hissed, sliding the window open. “What are you doing?”
She giggled, the sound grating on my already frayed nerves. “I forgot my key, Addy. Be a pal and buzz me in? I’ve been tapping at your window for ages already.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Michelle, this has got to stop. You can’t keep doing this. What if I hadn’t been home?”
She shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the whole situation. “Then I would’ve buzzed Matt. Or Tiffany. Someone’s always home, right?”
A woman talking to someone | Source: Midjourney
The whole building was at its wit’s end. One day, Tiffany from 3A cornered me in the laundry room, dark circles under her eyes.
“Adrienne, we’ve got to do something about Michelle. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in weeks!”
I nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion myself. “I know, Tiff. I’ve tried talking to her, but she just laughs it off.”
A woman in a laundry room | Source: Pexels
Matt joined us, his usually neat hair a mess. “I called the landlord,” he said, voice low. “Guess what? Michelle’s his niece. He said, and I quote, ‘She’s just having a bit of fun. You all need to lighten up.’”
“Lighten up?” Tiffany hissed. “I’ll show him ‘lighten up’ when I fall asleep at work and get fired!”
That’s when Riley from 4C spoke up. I hadn’t even noticed her lurking by the dryers.
“You know,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, “if Michelle won’t listen to reason, maybe we need to speak her language.”
A woman in a laundry room | Source: Pexels
We all leaned in closer as Riley outlined her plan. It was petty, sure. Childish, even. But after weeks of sleepless nights and Michelle’s careless laughter ringing in our ears, it felt like sweet justice.
The next night, we put our plan into action.
Michelle stumbled home around 1 a.m., and as usual, she started banging on windows and buzzing apartments. Someone let her in, as usual, and I listened as she breezed upstairs.
We struck an hour later.
A woman glancing over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney
I went outside and kept buzzing her apartment for a full ten minutes. Eventually, her voice crackled over the speaker.
“Who is this, and what the hell is wrong with you?”
“Hey, Michelle! It’s me, Adrienne. I took Biscuit out and forgot my key. Be a pal and buzz me in?”
“Are you serious? It’s 1 a.m.!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, but I always do it for you, so what’s the problem?”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
I heard her mutter something, but she let me in. I quickly texted Tiffany and rushed upstairs for the next part. I arrived at Michelle’s floor just as a series of sharp knocks echoed down the hall.
“Michelle? Michelle? Are you home?” Tiffany called out as she knocked on the door.
“Tiff? What are you doing?” Michelle groaned.
“Oh, I just wanted to check if somebody had let you in. Good night!”
A woman knocking on a door | Source: Pexels
I leaned against the wall, stifling my giggles. But we weren’t done. Over the next few days, we kept up our campaign. If Michelle forgot her key, we made sure she couldn’t sleep. It was petty, yes, but it felt so good.
By day five, Michelle was a wreck. Her hair was a tangled mess, her designer clothes rumpled, and dark circles ringed her bloodshot eyes. As she trudged up the stairs, I almost felt bad. Almost.
A tired-looking woman | Source: Pexels
“Please,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from yelling, “can you guys stop this? I get it, okay? Just stop waking me up every night!”
Tiffany, who’d come out to watch the show, couldn’t resist a jab. “Oh, so you do understand how annoying it is. Funny, you didn’t seem to care when you were doing it to us.”
Michelle’s lower lip trembled, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But then she squared her shoulders. “Fine. I’m sorry, alright? I’ll start bringing my key. Just… please let me sleep.”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Pexels
We all exchanged glances. It wasn’t a grand apology, but it was something. Slowly, we nodded.
“Okay, Michelle,” I said, trying to keep the triumph out of my voice. “We’ll stop. But remember—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, fishing in her purse. “Always carry my key after 8. I got it.”
The next evening, I tensed as I heard Michelle’s distinctive clatter on the stairs. But to my surprise, there was no banging, no buzzing. Just the soft click of a key in a lock.
Keys in a door | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t help but smile to myself. “Funny,” I murmured, settling back on my couch, “how peace always comes when everyone finally starts playing by the rules.”
Biscuit wagged his tail in agreement, and I scratched behind his ears. Our little apartment block was back to normal — or as normal as it could be with Hurricane Michelle living upstairs. But hey, at least now she had the key to fitting in.
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