The Reindeer Whisperer

He was Santa’s favourite gnome. And the only one the reindeer responded to. Perhaps because he sneaked extra carrots to them when no one was watching. And he listened when they complained they were being overworked.

So, when two days before the big job the reindeer protested and organised a strike, the gnome was the one who was urgently called to resolve the solution.

The reindeer had a list of demands, which included lighter reins, more food, and greater petting time.

The gnome listened carefully and took note. He promised Santa would compromise and fed each with a carrot marshmallow to lighten their mood. He vowed they would get an entire month of rest after the job was completed and that they could choose their relaxation destination themselves.

The reindeer conceded. The gnome was a good negotiator.

So all was resolved. The reindeer were content, the gnome was satisfied with a job well done and Santa was ready – he was actually so pleased he gave the gnome a promotion to Reindeer Counsellor.

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Sparking joy

His name was Elfy and he was…well…an Elf. He lived in the North Pole ever since he could remember. He was born there, actually. His father had been appointed head of Santa’s tech team and he transferred his entire family there just months after Elfy’s older brother was born.

Elfy was raised in the most wonderful place in the world, according to most children – and some adults too. He grew up near a person many didn’t even believe existed.

When he was young, he did not understand why so many people worked so hard all year round for just one day, and why so many material things were created to be used scarcely and to then demand even more of them.

Elfy disliked the entire process for another reason as well: he was born on Christmas day.

Having a Christmas birthday is both a blessing and a misfortune.

But one year, he realised that things only take the perspective you choose to give them.

He was handing out presents on his birthday, even though he received few – if any – in return, most even forgetting it was a particularly special day for him.

Those closest to him though would find ways to make him feel grateful.

For example, his best friend who was called Gnome, although that wasn’t his birth name. He was short and chubby and everyone burdened him with chores, because he would just not say ‘no’ to anyone. He was the type who would give his whole self, but nobody gave back anything to him. But that did not stop his good nature.

Elfy loved him, although he sometimes felt Gnome was allowing others to exploit him to the maximum.

When they were still children, Elfy didn’t know what to give Gnome for Christmas one year. It was a problem when you had it all. Literally. He remembered though that Gnome usually complained that his feet were constantly cold and he couldn’t sleep at night. So he got him a fluffy pair of woollen socks, beautifully wrapped up in a box with a red bow. Gnome was surprised and emotional at the sight. It was a present that was useful to him and signified that he had a friend who cared and above all, listened.

It was then that Elfy realised that giving a gift could spark joy just as much – or possibly even more – than receiving one. Because in giving you get the chance of making someone else happy. You create happiness and spread joy. And that is the entire point of the holiday, anyway.

“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give” – W. Churchill

Cat in a bag

He hadn’t been around for days now and Mrs Claus was getting worried. He was the smallest of the litter, although the feistiest one and,truth be told, he was her favourite.

But it was three days now that he had not shown up, not even during feeding times. She had asked his mother and brothers, but would only get a vague reply from his sister. She was probably just asking for more food.

She looked everywhere for him. In the toy factory, in the elves’ dorms, in the sleigh, in the kitchen, in the cupboards, in the sweet shops, everywhere. He was nowhere to be seen. And the worse part was that no-one else had seen him either.

Mrs Claus decided she had to call for reinforcements.

So she told Santa that her favourite kitten had gone missing.

“What if he’s been catnapped? He was the cutest of the lot,” she said in despair.

“No, no, he is around here somewhere,” Santa tried to reassure her.

They called out his name, rang bells and food plates, but nothing.

They even asked the reindeer, but to no avail.

As snow began to fall heavier outside, Mrs Santa became all the more worried that he was somewhere alone and cold.

But then, just as it happens with all things you look too hard for and then you find them when you stop searching – the little cat appeared on its own.

It was Santa who first spotted him when he saw his toy bag juddering on the sleigh. He knew it was not any of the toy robots, because they had no batteries installed. As he raised the opening of the bag slightly to peek inside, he saw two bright eyes staring back at him. They were accompanied by a faint “meow”. One that Mrs Claus heard, however, and rushed over just in time to see the little lion walk merrily out of the bag, unaware of all the commotion he had caused.

Sometimes it’s the smallest things that cause your heart to skip a few beats. It is only then that  you acknowledge their importance.

Light up, light up

©Sandra Crook

In daytime, it seemed like a simple street lamp with its metallic surroundings and a white exterior. It was nothing special. At least that was what the majority of passers-by thought.

But one little girl believed differently. She saw in that lamppost a fairy tale. The first time she saw it, she said it reminded her of her father’s bedtime stories.

When night came, the lamp turned on; but in different colours. And when the first snowflake fell, the lamp turned itself into a lit-up snowball encasing Santa’s house.

Magic was there. You just had to want to see it.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The Christmas bell

Denis was a child who grew up with stories and fairy tales of fantasy worlds that had no association with reality. He was a child who enjoyed the fiction, yet as an adult became too rational to endure the magic that they entailed.

Denis, however, loved Christmas. The sparkles, the lights, the optimism and joy of the season. But he never liked the fact that his birthday happened to be on the exact same day. It made him feel wanting, as though he lacked something everyone else had – a day for himself.

It was only when he met Nancy that his view changed.  She was a girl who worked in a toy store. They had met by chance at a coffee shop one day, when she was in such a haste that she nearly spilled her coffee on him. As karma has it, one talk let to another and soon they were dating. The good things always happen when you least expect them to.

Nancy loved the winter holiday season too. She dressed up as an elf for almost an entire month for her job and experienced it all so intensely. She was the kind of person who believed that fairy tales do come true if we believe in them. She was convinced that Denis was one of the luckiest people to have the privilege to have a birthday on such an important date. He just had to see it too.

She gave him a small golden bell as a present. She told him it was similar to those on Santa’s reindeers. He shook it but no sound came out. Nancy took it from his hand, shook it a little and said, “can’t you hear its sweet chime?” Denis heard nothing.  She got up and wrapped him in her arms. The snow was falling gently outside, and wood was crackling in the fireplace. “This is all magic what we’re living,” Nancy said with a huge smile. She tossed the tail of her Santa hat from in front of her face and added, “magic happens when you don’t give up. You just have to believe. Believe that things happen as they’re supposed to; there’s a reason for it all. And you are lucky to be who you are, at this very moment, at this very place.” She winked and Denis glowed. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried again. He shook the bell gently and all of a sudden, a harmonious sound echoed in the room.  He could hear it now too.

Santa run

The white-haired man with the white beard and big belly that had an abnormal affinity for red suits was once again spotted around the park. He was looking at all the young children playing carefree on the swings and in the playground and appeared to be checking a list that he drew out of his side pocket and seemed to have no end. What on earth was he doing? This could take a very ugly turn.

And it did.

Marissa was an old lady who couldn’t hear very well. She couldn’t see very well either, despite the fact that she wore glasses with lenses as thick a piece of gammon at Christmas lunch. She also used a cane to walk, which she would also occasionally use as a weapon lest any “young rascal” would try to steal her bag. She would take her young grandson to the park every afternoon and sit at the bench watching him (or at least someone who looked like him from afar) enjoy himself in the playground. She had become acquainted with the other children and parents who spent their time there too. Therefore, whenever a “newbie” arrived, everyone would notice. They were as easy to recognize as a fly drowning in milk.

The past few days, however, ever since the beginning of December, Marissa noticed the frequent presence of a rather fat and peculiar old man. He was oddly jolly with everyone and was very fond of children. Perhaps too fond, according to Marissa. And he was always there. From the moment she and little Everett arrived, to the moment they left, that old man was sitting on the adjacent bench taking notes.

A week later, after Marissa had ran through her mind all the possible things this man might be noting – all of which were remarkably anomalous, no matter how you looked at it – she decided it was time to take action. She did consider walking over there and whacking him on the head with her cane, then grabbing his list and running to the police to file a report against him as a pedophile. But there were two problems with that: she couldn’t see very well and due to the holiday season more and more people began to draw a liking to red clothing and she might thus end up hitting someone else; and then she couldn’t run very fast, so by the time she had made her way out of the park, he might regain consciousness and chase after her. So, Marissa decided to do the only proper and responsible thing she knew: she would call the police.

Her report said that an old man with white hair and beard, dressed in a red suit that was unflattering for his age, was constantly roaming around the park, observing the kids and making notes. Just to be sure that the police wouldn’t make fun of her, she did send an instant message from her tablet (that had a big enough screen for her to be sure she had captured at least part of the man in question).

It didn’t take long for the police to arrive. The German Shepherd dog accompanying them was already growling, but for some strange reason it stopped the minute its eyes located the old man. And surprisingly it sat down and refused to go near or attack, no matter how much the policemen were yelling. The old man did not even budge.

Yet, all of a sudden, chaos broke out. Seeing that the dog had no intention of chasing or attacking the suspect, the police officers decided to take matters into their own hands. They began to scream, whistle and shout – if there was the appropriate music, it would even seem that they were trying to do the Twist.

And then began the run.

The old man, seeing a handful of unusually frightening young men in police attire racing like raging bulls towards him, got up and began to run too. The kids, thinking this was some sort of festive game, thought it would be fun to join in. And the German Shepherd dog decided it was time to get a move on too. The parents, afraid the dog might attack the children or the police might fire a shot that may reach an unintentional target, raced like mad and white as ghosts, behind the mob. It was complete havoc. And on the side, Marissa was taking photos on her tablet – you know, for evidence.

The old man ran into the forest-y area of the park where a wooden shed was located, he rushed in before the police closed up – the dog was for some reason being intentionally slow at catching up.

And then…

Police, dog, children, parents, the kiosk-owner who had approached out of curiosity, the candyman who was looking for kids to sell his produce to, and Marissa (who was still taking photos), all looked up at the sky, rubbing their eyes. They could not believe what they saw. A sleigh. Yes, a sleigh, a red one with a small turbo engine at the back and a dozen reindeer – yes, those horned animals that look like deer – pulling it along. It all disappeared before the bedazzled crowd managed to take a second blink.

The police stormed the wooden shed, with the dog barking happily beside them. There was nothing in there apart from some hay – most of which appeared to have been consumed – and some firewood. Nothing else.

So where did the old man dressed in red go? And did they really see what they thought they saw?

When the police questioned Marissa, she told them she had photo evidence. But when they confiscated her tablet to see for themselves, all they found was funny-looking selfies of a befuddled old lady in the park.

50 shades of white

She woke up feeling undesirable that day. Only Vixen could understand her loneliness. She hadn’t been touched by him for almost a month now. Why? Was she getting fat? Was she getting old? Was it the white hair? What was wrong? Cupid tried to calm her down and reassured her that she was just as gorgeous and desirable as during her younger hippy years. She wished he thought so too. The girls finally convinced her to seduce him that night. Prancer chose her sexy outfit, while Vixen gave her tips on what to do. She felt confident and ready!

Come nightfall she lit up all the candles in the bedroom. Put on her lace underwear and waited. He was bound to arrive soon. She slid into the en-suite bathroom for a clearer view of him. It didn’t take long for the door to open and him to enter. He took off his boots, his shirt and his pants. Her heart was pounding. He was so masculine! She slowly opened the bathroom door and posed – just like she saw Marilyn do in all those movies. Sexy and desirable. As she felt at the moment. His heart began to race and he felt he was going to have a heart attack. “My, my” he said, quite aroused. “You look…”. “Yes, I do”, she interrupted his gulping. She started moving towards the bed, as he stood up ready to engulf her in his arms. “It’s been too long”, they both thought.

She wanted to race over and jump into his arms with her legs wrapped around him like she has seen lovers do and then both of them fall back on the bed.

She tried doing that.

It worked in her head.

But not in reality.

She jumped onto him. Their bellies clashed. He fell back onto the bed which broke clashing with a thump and causing a crack on the floor. “My back” he managed to muffle from within Mrs Claus’s big breasts.

Rudy had been woken up by the noise and the dust falling on his head – his room was beneath Santa’s. Frightened as he was, he alerted the others, and soon nine reindeer were indiscreetly poking in on an almost indecent scene – Santa on his back on a bed on the floor and Mrs Claus right on top of him in her lacy underwear. “Well, that’s not something for the kids”, said Rudy. “No, that’s Santa’s Xmas!” laughed Vixen.