I Took in a Young Man Freezing on the Street on Christmas Eve — Later That Night, I Was Struck with Shock as He Crept Toward My Bed

I thought I was doing a good deed on Christmas Eve by taking in a young man shivering in the cold. But later that night, I woke to find him in my doorway, and my breath caught when I saw what he was holding.

Last Christmas Eve pressed down on me, heavy as the thick, relentless snow, the early darkness, and the silence echoing in the wind. I was just returning from the cemetery, where I’d visited my late husband Michael’s grave like I always did since his passing.

A sad woman in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman in a cemetery | Source: Midjourney

I had stood there bundled in my thick coat, staring at his name etched into the cold stone, missing him with an ache that never fully disappeared.

But somehow, the loneliness was sharper that year. My son David had called earlier to tell me they wouldn’t be able to visit because Lily, my seven-year-old granddaughter, was sick.

Girl sleeping | Source: Midjourney

Girl sleeping | Source: Midjourney

He apologized, adding, “Mom, we’ll come as soon as she’s better, I promise.”

“Of course,” I’d said, doing my best not to show my disappointment. I understood his position, but the silence in the house was almost too much to bear.

The streets were quiet as I drove home from the cemetery. That’s when I saw him. At first, I thought he was just a shadow under the streetlamp, huddled up and unmoving.

A quiet, snowy street | Source: Midjourney

A quiet, snowy street | Source: Midjourney

But as I got closer, I realized it was a young man in a worn jacket. He looked frozen, his knees pulled to his chest as he sat on the curb.

And although I should’ve ignored him, and had done so with other people in the past, something told me to stop. I slowed the car and rolled down the window.

“Are you alright?” I called out. “Why are you out here in this weather?”

A woman in a car | Source: Midjourney

A woman in a car | Source: Midjourney

He turned his head slowly, meeting my gaze with striking eyes. They were the kind of light brown that stops you in your tracks, deep and piercing even in the dim light, and accentuated by his tanned skin.

For a moment, he just stared at me, blinking rather slowly. Then he said, almost too softly to hear, “I… I have nowhere else to go.”

I hesitated for only a second. “You’ll freeze out here,” I said. “Get in.”

He looked at me like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing, but then he stood up slowly, brushed snow off his pants, and climbed into the car.

A shabby man near a car | Source: Midjourney

A shabby man near a car | Source: Midjourney

“What’s your name?” I asked as I turned up the heat.

“Carlos,” he answered cautiously.

“Well, Carlos,” I said, “you’re coming home with me tonight. It’s Christmas Eve, and no one should be out in this cold.”

He didn’t say anything, but I caught the faintest nod out of the corner of my eye.

When we got to the house, I grabbed some of David’s old clothes from the closet and handed them to Carlos.

“The bathroom is down the hall,” I said. “Take as much time as you need to warm up.”

A woman gesturing towards the side | Source: Midjourney

A woman gesturing towards the side | Source: Midjourney

While he cleaned up and changed, I made hot cocoa, pulling out the marshmallows I usually saved for Lily. By the time Carlos came back into the living room, he looked more human and less like a shadow.

His now-clean hair curled beautifully, and the oversized sweater made him look younger than I’d first thought. He sank onto the couch, clutching the cup of hot cocoa.

A man holding a cup, sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

A man holding a cup, sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

“You remind me of my son,” I said as I settled into the armchair across from him. “That’s probably why I stopped my car.”

It was true, except it wasn’t so much his looks that resembled David, it was his aura. It was hard to describe. David looked just like my late husband, with green eyes and pale white skin. Carlos was obviously of Latin-American descent. But there was still something about him…

He smiled politely, but his eyes remained guarded. “Gracias. I mean, thank you,” he said quietly, correcting himself. “You didn’t have to… but you did. I won’t forget it.”

A man with a deep stare | Source: Midjourney

A man with a deep stare | Source: Midjourney

I smiled back at him. “De nada (You’re welcome),” I replied, though my Spanish wasn’t good at all. “It’s almost Christmas. Everyone deserves to be warm.”

I wanted to ask him more about himself, what had brought him to the streets, why he was alone on Christmas Eve, but when I tried, his face clouded over.

“It’s complicated,” he said, looking down at his cocoa.

“Fair enough,” I nodded, deciding not to push. Instead, I put on a cozy Christmas movie on the TV, and later, I showed him to the guest room and wished him a good night.

A woman in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

A woman in an armchair | Source: Midjourney

“If you need anything, just knock,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said again, and this time, the corner of his lips turned up slightly.

***

Later that night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I was just starting to drift off when I heard a faint creak of floorboards outside my room.

I scrambled up in bed, every muscle screaming in protest, and turned to the door.

Carlos was standing in the doorway, his face shadowed and unrecognizable in the darkness.

A dark figure standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney

A dark figure standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney

My heart quickened, and for one moment, I knew I shouldn’t have been so nice. Bringing a stranger home was a horrible idea.

My heart began to pound in my ears as I noticed something in his hand. I couldn’t make out what it was before he started walking toward me in slow and deliberate steps.

Panic surged through me. “STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” I shouted, my voice cracking with fear.

A woman screaming in bed | Source: Midjourney

A woman screaming in bed | Source: Midjourney

Carlos froze, his eyes widening in alarm. “Wait!” he said quickly, holding up the object in his hand. Relief washed over me as I realized what it was: a small orange bottle with my heart medication.

“You didn’t take this,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I saw it on the counter and thought you might need it. My abuela (grandmother) used to take it every night right before bed.”

A man holding a medication bottle | Source: Midjourney

A man holding a medication bottle | Source: Midjourney

The fear drained out of me, replaced by embarrassment. But my hands were still trembling. “Oh,” I said weakly. “I… I forgot. Thank you.”

He nodded and placed the bottle on the nightstand before backing out of the room. “Good night,” he said softly, and then he was gone.

My body slumped back onto the bed, and I stared at the bottle for hours, feeling foolish yet grateful. I had assumed the worst about him, and all he had wanted to do was make sure I was okay.

A bottle of medication on a nightstand | Source: Midjourney

A bottle of medication on a nightstand | Source: Midjourney

The next morning, I made pancakes, using the last of the blueberries I had stashed in the freezer. Carlos came into the kitchen, looking unsure of himself, and sat down at the table.

“Merry Christmas,” I said, sliding a small box across.

“What’s this?” he asked, looking genuinely surprised.

“Open it.”

He unwrapped the present slowly, pulling out the scarf I had knitted years ago. It was red and white, nothing fancy, but it was warm.

A man with a present | Source: Midjourney

A man with a present | Source: Midjourney

“Thank you,” he said again, running his fingers over the soft yarn. He wrapped it around his neck immediately and smiled.

We ate in mostly silence while I wondered how to bring up the subject of last night. I wanted to thank him and apologize for having been scared.

But after Carlos finished his pancakes, he stood up. He walked to the door where he’d left his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” I asked, frowning.

A woman at breakfast table | Source: Midjourney

A woman at breakfast table | Source: Midjourney

“You really helped me last night, ma’am,” Carlos said, licking his lips. “Thank you. But I should go now.”

“Where will you go?”

He hesitated with one hand on the doorknob. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Wait,” I said, standing. “Why don’t you stay? Help me around the house, make sure I take my pills. I could use the company.”

“Really?” he asked, hope flickering in his eyes.

A man looking hopeful | Source: Midjourney

A man looking hopeful | Source: Midjourney

“Of course,” I said. “You shouldn’t be out there on Christmas day, either. You can also work around the house as your way of paying for room and board. What do you say?”

Carlos simply smiled and set down his duffel bag again.

***

Over the next few weeks, we settled into a rhythm. Carlos was quiet and respectful, always making sure to keep his space tidy and never overstepping.

A man smiling | Source: Midjourney

A man smiling | Source: Midjourney

We even had a great New Year’s Eve together. And although I didn’t push, I was happy when he started to open up.

One night, in January, as we sat by the fire, he finally told me about his past. His troubles began when his parents kicked him out.

“They didn’t understand me,” he said hesitantly. “They thought I was wasting my life with art. They wanted me to study something practical, like engineering or medicine. When I said no, they told me I wasn’t welcome in their house anymore.”

A man sitting by the fireplace | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting by the fireplace | Source: Midjourney

So, he’d been ousted for pursuing his passion, of his dream of becoming an artist. Then life had dealt him another cruel blow.

A roommate had stolen everything he owned, like his few meager savings, and even items belonging to the landlord, before disappearing. He was later evicted for being unable to replace the stolen items. Finally, he lost his job simply for being homeless.

“I probably would’ve frozen out there if it weren’t for you,” he said with a soft sigh.

A man smiling while sitting by a fireplace | Source: Midjourney

A man smiling while sitting by a fireplace | Source: Midjourney

How could this world be so cruel?

I reached over and put my hand on his. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. You’re safe here.”

***

Now here we are. It’s a year later, and here’s what has happened.

With my help, Carlos found a new job and a small apartment nearby. He became a regular visitor, bringing laughter back into the house. He even charmed my son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter.

As we decorated the Christmas tree together, I realized how much my life had changed. Carlos was no longer a stranger I’d taken in; he was family.

A woman decorating a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney

A woman decorating a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney

And while he always says I saved his life, the truth is that he’d saved mine.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Is This Preacher Really Elvis Presley? Fans Think They’ve Found the King!

Since Elvis Presley sadly died in 1977, some devoted fans believe he faked his death to live quietly away from the public eye.

These fans think Elvis might have been hiding from the mafia, appeared as an extra in the movie *Home Alone*, visited California’s Legoland, helped out at Graceland, or is now living as a humble preacher in Arkansas.

Even though the preacher, Bob Joyce, keeps denying he’s Elvis, fans believe he’s about to reveal the truth about his faked death soon.

Keep reading to find out what the preacher says about these claims!

On August 16, 1977, the world was shocked when it was announced that 42-year-old Elvis Presley died of a heart attack.

Even though it’s been almost 50 years since his death, some people still refuse to believe the King of Rock and Roll is really gone.

To this day, Elvis-obsessed fans refuse to let go and choose to believe the gyrating gent faked his own death to go into hiding.

And now they are convinced they spotted the “Jailhouse Rock” singer living as Bob Joyce, a 72-year-old preacher in Benton, Arkansas.

Joyce looks like an older, silver-haired version of Elvis, speaks like Elvis and sings with the same soothing baritone that Elvis was adored.

And when a YouTube video of Joyce singing the gospel song “How Great Thou Art,” a song recorded by Elvis in 1967, conspiracy theorists went wild.

One fan wrote, “This is definitely Elvis. No one else could sing this hymn like him.”

Another fan commented, “His voice will never change. We love you and hope you share your life story with us someday. We all know who you are.”

A third fan said, “No imitation Elvis sings like Bob Joyce. Sir, I believe you are Elvis. The rhythm and tone of your voice are unmistakable.”

Another fan wrote, “I love you, Elvis Bob Joyce. I know who you are, but it’s okay. No more spotlight, just peace of mind. You still have my heart.”

However, Bob Joyce, the gospel singer and preacher at The Household of Faith Church, says he is not Elvis Presley and is instead a messenger of God.

He explains, “No, I’m not Elvis. Many people ask me that. I’ve tried to tell everyone, ‘No, I’m not Elvis.’ I’m actually almost 20 years younger than Elvis, who would be 89 in 2024. Even though most people know I’m not Elvis, they are grateful that God is helping them through their struggles.

“Maybe God is using Elvis’ voice to heal broken hearts and lives. If Elvis were alive, I’d say to him, ‘We’re kindred spirits.’”

Still, many of Joyce’s fans are adamant in saying he hasn’t come out yet and will soon reveal his big secret to the world.

“All his [members of the congregation] knows it’s him as well as the many visitors to his church every Sunday from around the world know it’s him. He’s getting ready to explain it all (why he faked his death & changed his name) very soon,” writes Alabama’s Samantha Drummond Dunn, who plans on traveling to Arkansas to meet Joyce. Encouraging others to watch his YouTube videos, which she says serves as proof, she demands, “It is him!”

Poking fun at her statement, another netizen writes, “If it’s on the Internet it must be true.”

The Bob Joyce website warns people about fake social media accounts pretending to be him, including the one mentioned by Drummond Dunn. The website says, “People have impersonated Bob Joyce many times. He does not send private messages online. The only real Facebook account for Pastor Bob Joyce is: facebook.com/bob.joyce.75. Any other accounts claiming to be him on Facebook or elsewhere are not genuine.”

The statement also notes that Bob Joyce is not on Instagram or TikTok.

What do you think about this? Share your thoughts and pass this story along so we can hear what others think too!

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