Topic: Forum Games: Forum Games /
[MERRY XMAS & HAPPY NEW YEAR!] Bluji's Christmas Calendar 2015!
2nd of December
“We don’t know if Santa was in there”, the elves tried to say, but they all knew. I knew, the reindeer knew, every single elf nearby knew.
I solemnly trudged through the snow and picked up the candycane scarf. It was ashy and burned on the beautiful white snow. Rubbing the charred but still smooth silken cloth along the wrinkled ridges of my face, I could still smell that strong odour of eggnog. Santa, my dearest Santa…
I bid you my final farewell…
One of the elves whispered into my ear, recommending that I go in. “It’s cold,” he said, “we’ll take it from here, see what we can salvage and how we can remedy this so that Christmas is safe. You take a rest now, dear.”
I took heed to a kind advice and went back into the warmth of the hearth, but it granted neither warmth nor respite nor closure, for I was freezing cold: shivering at the core. Santa is gone.
Realising that even the biggest, most violent fire could do little to thaw the avalanche of emotions, I decided to head on to Santa’s alcove at the workshop and see what knick-knacks and bric-a-brac he would stash there. Maybe it would help me brave the cold winter. I took the half-charred scarf from the sidetable and took in one last whiff of eggnog. Wreathing it around my neck, I headed to the workshop.
As I enter, a weak, sombre “hey ho” sounded like the mourning rhythm of someone. I told them that if they were so dispirited, they had might as well take a break. “But no, Mrs. Claus, we have to work to keep to schedule!” said one of the elves in protest. They were clearly committed to trudging on, but I know that their sore hearts bleed sorrow as mine does now. That cold, empty feeling is in the heart of every elf in the building, and not just mine. I insisted, and out they went, rank and file, to return to their quarters for a half-hour break (it was the most they were willing to give themselves).
I opened the door of Santa’s small room that he had. His naptime room, I suppose. The door opened without a sound, clearly well-oiled. I opened the drawers and found a rather sparse collection of miscellaneous personal belongings. An old paddle ball that he found last year from a Peruvian boy, who, instead of cookies and milk, addressed to him an unwrapped present, but just a label ‘For Santa’. I don’t know why he particularly likes this, or even that he does, but it must say something that he keeps it in this drawer.
Other than that, there are two pairs of reading spectacles and a small sealed envelope, addressed
To My Loving Wife,
If ever I am gone without bidding you our normal goodbye, please read this letter.
You safeguard Christmas in my absence.
I ran my gloved fingers across the first line, and the felt ink smudged slightly. Tears welled up.
I slid the envelope into my inner jacket pocket, as I could not muster the strength to open it now.
But one thing was for certain. Santa was right. I must do something to save Christmas.
I will be the new Christmas superhero. Mrs. Claus is coming to town.