With Christmas rolling around I thought about this while I was writing this story. Do You Tell Your Kids About Santa Claus, or the Truth? Why or Why Not? For most, Santa Claus is the first lie parents tell their kids
The Last House on Christmas Night – by godofwine (648 Words)
The old man landed on the snow covered roof as lightly as a squirrel, belying his size and ponderous bulk. He pulled the chain on a golden pocket watch, flipped it open and sighed. At a quarter to five on Christmas morning, he was finally almost done - just one more house to go.
He paused a moment and listened. A house full of sleeping children made a distinctive sound. He waited a moment, focused, and once the delightful sound of peace graced his ears he grabbed the one final bag and headed for the chimney. With a white gloved hand he brushed the dusting of snow from the brick, hefted the bag over his shoulder, lifted one leg over, then another, and silently descended into darkness.
Moments later, the old man was inside one of the most beautifully decorated homes he had ever seen, but each one was special in its own way. The tree with small icicles, multicolored bulbs and lights exquisitely hung, displaying a myriad of colors with train tracks spiraling down around to the bottom and up again. The train, which puffed tiny white clouds of smoke as it motored around the eight foot spruce, brought a smile to the man’s face. The scene distracted the old man so much that he did not notice he was not alone until he turned around.
“Oh, ho-ho,” the man whispered. “You startled me, Brian.”
The young man stood with his mouth wide, frozen in place and stared at the old man for a full minute before speaking. He feebly backed up, reached back for the arm of the couch, and the old man rushed forward to guide the younger man into the seat.
“Is it…is it really you, Santa?”
The old man gave a silent chuckle, his belly jiggled, and his eyes glimmered in the dim light.
“Yes, Brian. It is me,” Santa said, still laughing. “What pray tell are you doing up at this hour on Christmas morning? After all these years, you are still just as excited about Christmas as Devin and Stephanie, aren’t you? How are the little sugarplums? Have they been nice?”
“Oh, very. I couldn’t have asked for better kids. But you? Oh my God, I’m really here talking to Santa,” Brian said, barely able to contain himself.
“Ho-ho, yes, son, I am here. Do you want to be Santa’s Little Helper?”
“Would I? Of course! What do you need me to do?”
“Help me unpack the presents.”
The men pulled presents out of the bag for the family, three each for Devin and Stephanie, and two for Brian’s wife Erica. After the last present was placed under the tree, Brian reached for the bag, shook it, looked up at the old man crestfallen, and Santa gave a shy smile.
From behind his back, Santa pulled one more gift wrapped in gold paper. “Did you think I forgot about you, son?”
With his ear to the box, Brian shook the gift like a child attempting to guess what was inside. Santa wagged a disapproving finger at the man and Brian placed the box beneath the tree with the rest of the presents.
“There is one more gift,” Santa said, and Brian looked up from his knees.
“Sixty years ago I entered a home, late like I am now, and was startled by a man just like I was tonight by you, Brian. He gave me something special, a keepsake his father had given him because he was always running late. So every year, my last stop is a home from one of his descendants,” Santa said, pulling the chain of the watch and unhooked it from his pocket.
“This gold watch belonged to your great, grandfather, and your grandfather, and I want to return it to you.”
With tears in his eyes, Brian took the watch, stood, and hugged Santa Claus.
The Last House on Christmas Night – by godofwine (648 Words)
The old man landed on the snow covered roof as lightly as a squirrel, belying his size and ponderous bulk. He pulled the chain on a golden pocket watch, flipped it open and sighed. At a quarter to five on Christmas morning, he was finally almost done - just one more house to go.
He paused a moment and listened. A house full of sleeping children made a distinctive sound. He waited a moment, focused, and once the delightful sound of peace graced his ears he grabbed the one final bag and headed for the chimney. With a white gloved hand he brushed the dusting of snow from the brick, hefted the bag over his shoulder, lifted one leg over, then another, and silently descended into darkness.
Moments later, the old man was inside one of the most beautifully decorated homes he had ever seen, but each one was special in its own way. The tree with small icicles, multicolored bulbs and lights exquisitely hung, displaying a myriad of colors with train tracks spiraling down around to the bottom and up again. The train, which puffed tiny white clouds of smoke as it motored around the eight foot spruce, brought a smile to the man’s face. The scene distracted the old man so much that he did not notice he was not alone until he turned around.
“Oh, ho-ho,” the man whispered. “You startled me, Brian.”
The young man stood with his mouth wide, frozen in place and stared at the old man for a full minute before speaking. He feebly backed up, reached back for the arm of the couch, and the old man rushed forward to guide the younger man into the seat.
“Is it…is it really you, Santa?”
The old man gave a silent chuckle, his belly jiggled, and his eyes glimmered in the dim light.
“Yes, Brian. It is me,” Santa said, still laughing. “What pray tell are you doing up at this hour on Christmas morning? After all these years, you are still just as excited about Christmas as Devin and Stephanie, aren’t you? How are the little sugarplums? Have they been nice?”
“Oh, very. I couldn’t have asked for better kids. But you? Oh my God, I’m really here talking to Santa,” Brian said, barely able to contain himself.
“Ho-ho, yes, son, I am here. Do you want to be Santa’s Little Helper?”
“Would I? Of course! What do you need me to do?”
“Help me unpack the presents.”
The men pulled presents out of the bag for the family, three each for Devin and Stephanie, and two for Brian’s wife Erica. After the last present was placed under the tree, Brian reached for the bag, shook it, looked up at the old man crestfallen, and Santa gave a shy smile.
From behind his back, Santa pulled one more gift wrapped in gold paper. “Did you think I forgot about you, son?”
With his ear to the box, Brian shook the gift like a child attempting to guess what was inside. Santa wagged a disapproving finger at the man and Brian placed the box beneath the tree with the rest of the presents.
“There is one more gift,” Santa said, and Brian looked up from his knees.
“Sixty years ago I entered a home, late like I am now, and was startled by a man just like I was tonight by you, Brian. He gave me something special, a keepsake his father had given him because he was always running late. So every year, my last stop is a home from one of his descendants,” Santa said, pulling the chain of the watch and unhooked it from his pocket.
“This gold watch belonged to your great, grandfather, and your grandfather, and I want to return it to you.”
With tears in his eyes, Brian took the watch, stood, and hugged Santa Claus.
, This is the most common answer I hear from Black people
Humans are the funniest things. I let my kids do the Santa myth thing, so the only way they got other kids upset on Xmas was telling them that Jesus wasn't real.
