#18 - Making Something From Nothing

“There is no such thing as Santa Claus!”

The child stood indignantly amongst the others, arms thoroughly crossed. His eyes were narrowed beneath a thick band of frontal bangs.

“Well, I know that you are wrong!” came the voice of another little girl, “I've seen him in person, and if you can't believe me, then you're just stupid!”

The boy's nose wrinkled sharply, creasing together several freckles that lined his cheeks. Three other children were seated around a large campfire; the only source of light within the small room. The flames orange glow danced along the sides of the walls in ghostly flickers.

“Fine, we'll take a vote then!” he announced while turning to the others.

The fire played with the boy's glassy eyes in flickering fingers that mirrored within his pupils. The others straightened up a bit.

“Who here in the club believes that there isn't a Santa Claus?” he inquired while thrusting his hand to the dark ceiling.

He continued to glare, seeming to have a profound effect upon the other members. They each raised their own hands hesitantly, their eyes captured within the boy's stern bravado.

“There, motion passed!” he said triumphantly, “The club will no longer believe in-”

A great woosh noise suddenly filled the small space, silencing the sentence immediately. The children stood and ran as the once blazing flame was instantly extinguished. The boy peeked out into the darkness behind the security of a large recliner. Large, heavy footsteps echoed from the floor, reverberating a bit along the walls. None of them could move nor speak; each had taken refuge in different areas about the room.

“What's going on?” the girl whom had first spoken whispered to the boy.

He squinted in the soupy blackness, a large figure's silhouette barely visible. The sound of a large object striking the ground filled the room.

“S-Santa?”

He didn't mean to speak the name. It came from between his lips in utter shock. He saw the large red coat, the whiteness of a long, winter beard. The boy could even make out twinkling eyes of the kindly old man as he turned to face the source of the noise. He bent down to the large object and pulled something from it. His booted steps approached the recliner the boy was cowering behind. A gloved hand placed a small parcel upon the seat of the recliner before the man turned away and bent down to pick up the large and oddly shaped object from the floor. The next moment, he was gone with accompaniment of another droning swish.

A few moments passed in silence. The fire suddenly returned to the same burning, comforting glow that had once been. Each of them slowly crept from their respective hiding spots and congregated around the fire. The boy took note of the large, sooty footprints that now dusted the hearth of the fireplace, along with a melange of sparkling, wrapped packages now lining the decorated tree in the room. The boy turned, back to the recliner. A small box was resting upon the seat, accented with a shimmering golden ribbon and bow. He grabbed at the item and turned it over in his hand for a few moments in disbelief. His name was scrawled along the side in simple, black ink. He walked back over to the tree, placing the parcel under the tree. He felt eyes upon him as he continued to stare with wide eyes.

“So I think that there needs to be another vote,” the girl suddenly stated, catching the boy's attention.

She waltzed to the front of the fire, her hands on her hips.

“Raise your hand if you believe in Santa Claus.”

The other children raised their arms in the air immediately. She turned back to face the boy and meet his gaze with a smirk-ridden smile.

“Well?” she asked with raised eyebrows, “What is your vote?”

The boy's hand stretched upward with a greatly suppressed smile.

#17 - Discovery

“This Human was found from a deserted road from the place they call United States,” came the voice of one to another in unrecognizable tongue, “I believe they have dubbed the land Arizona.”

“Arizona,” the other breathed to himself in the same language while pushing it's reddish-orange pupils toward the flesh colored being unconscious and bound with coils of blackened material.

The one whom had spoken first took a few careful steps around the man and toward a panel. It clicked at buttons and twisted at knobs with pencil-thin, twisted fingers.

“Attach Robbulus two and five,” it announced to the other, “We are to extract any mental data from these meat monsters.”

The other obeyed immediately, grasping at a pair of brown, circular disks and placing them upon the man's head. A light hum began to echo about the dark space.

“Accessing Human brain wavelength patterns,” the first spoke while continuing to click at the panel, “Power capacity to seventy percent.”

The hum intensified. A silver, shining screen suddenly flickered to life beside the large head of the second.

“What is this?” the second had said in a tone of shock and wonder.

A light-speckled, star-topped pine tree was dancing about the screen's display. It appeared dim, as if a heavy fog was permeating the image. Despite the cloudiness, the image still sparkled with a warm, inviting glow.

“Hone in on this wavelength,” the voice of the second came then, “This is an important pattern we have yet to have studied.”

Again, more clicking and twisting of buttons. The image remained fog-ridden for a few more moments, then blossomed into an entire scene. The man, the same one lying before the two beings, was hugging a small boy. They were each kneeling beside the large, sparkling tree seen before, now present within a small room. A flame blazed in a fireplace beside them, adding to the overall color of the area. Boxes and items of all shapes and sizes littered the area beneath the tree in brightly shimmering paper, each reflecting the lights from the tree or the crackle of the fire. A large sign hung from the room's wall.

“Let me translate this,” the first said, “Me-e-rr-ry C-chr-i-sss-mas. Merry Christmas.”

It repeated the phrase a few more times while staring at the monitor. The second couldn't help but be in a slight awe of the image that danced before them upon the screen. Never had either seen such a sight.

“I remember one of our superiors talking about Human interaction in a past briefing,” the second responded, “but never quite like this.”

The first appeared to be just as awe-struck as the second. He merely watched the screen with the same stricken eyes.

“This,” the first attempted to say the word, “C-christmas. What could it be?”

The second shook it's head slowly.

“This is something to report to our superiors,” the second replied while standing to it's full height, “This is out of our hands at this point. They will likely want to study this new phenomenon at length.”

The first gave a look of approval.

“Of course,” it stated while turning to the sedated man still lying before them, “What do we do with it?”

“For now,” the second muttered while taking a closer look, “We let it go. We need to have time for them to decide what to do next. This one is no longer of use to us.”

The first needed no additional explanation. It immediately worked at the man's bindings, releasing his limp body from the bondage. The second assisting in carrying the man toward another, bubble-like machine in the opposite corner of the room.

“Prepare the Human for departure to Arizona,” the first said while returning to the same panel, “We will need to wipe all memory and send it back to wherever it came.”

“Understood,” came the response of the other, “Let us hope it's Christmas knowledge will propel it home.”

#16 - The Last Minute Shopper

It's the only thing I want for Christmas, daddy...

I pushed my way through the noisy crowds, the faint sound of holiday carols playing out above from overhanging speakers. They did little to mask the overpowering volume of people laughing, jeering and complaining as each pushed their way through the steady stream of shoppers. I picked my way through the multicolored wave of sweaters and jackets.

“Excuse me!” I called out to a lone man wearing a name badge.

He looked akin to an island amidst a violent summer storm. Torrents of people crashed upon him with questions, insults and inquiries, the poor man looking wide eyed and frightened.

“Yes sir?” he called out to me from a few feet away.

“Do you have any more of these?” I shouted my questions as I planted myself the best I could.

He merely shook his head and pointed. I turned my gaze to see an empty space, a used coffee cup being the lone item still for sale upon the lonely shelf.

I was buckling into my car in minutes, a thick sheen of sweat upon my brow and a heavy feeling within my chest. I had to get this toy. My mind flashed briefly back to my daughter's round eyes as I pointed to the T.V.

Is that what you want, sweetie? I had asked her.

She merely nodded with a bright smile. I threw my car into the next parking lot, my child's sparkling face giving me a renewed hope. I stepped out into the frigid air and into the next store, the name of the business irrelevant.

Nothing.

I tried another store across the street.

An empty shelf met my tired gaze.

What was I going to tell her Christmas morning? Her dad wasn't the invincible, all powerful hero that she had seen for her entire life? I briefly imagined her sad face as she held up another toy, clearly not the same as what she wanted.

I shook my head, a new, motivated fire spawning from my belly. She would get what she wanted for Christmas.

I threw my seat belt aside as I came upon the last store I had time to shop for. As I entered my heart instantly sank. It was the most busy out of all the others. Products of all shapes and styles littered the floor like debris after an explosion. The workers stood out amongst the crowd as plastic badge-clad officers, trying to direct the impossible flow of people.

“Sir, do you have these?”

My voice sounded hoarse and tired. My eyes burned with sleepiness. The man took a quick look, then pointed. I followed the familiar gesture, expecting to see an empty area. I looked at the bare space for a moment, then looked again with a jolt in my fingertips. Shoved in the back-most space of the shelf was one more toy. I immediately made my way for my prize, taking quick looks around the area of the seemingly barren shelf. I was too far, surely someone else would see it and snatch it up before I could have a chance. I came closer and closer, my eyes continually scanning the crowd. Another shock to my system came as I was mere feet away when I saw another little girl reach for the item. I let out a pained sigh as her dad took it from her and inspected it with a small grin. He mouthed some words to his daughter then, to my great astonishment, placed it back upon the shelf and walked away.

This was my chance. I shoved my way through the crowds, closing the distance between me and my little girl's perfect Christmas morning.

“Hey, watch it!” a pair of women scolded me as I tread upon their feet in my haste.

I cared little to whomever spoke to me. I was six feet...five. I watched others around me, as if to give them warning of my charging arrival. I reached out and - with the widest grin I had felt in a long time – grabbed at the decorative box. My breath came out only through upturned lips. My daughter's Christmas wish would come true.

#15 - A Unique Christmas Wish

Tom hated his job worse than anyone and anything. He loathed getting up every morning before dawn, just to be harassed by customers, coworkers and his boss at the local mall. He worked in a small retail shop that ran along the west wing. This day was different, however. He had been chosen out of several hundred to play Santa in the center lane of the mall. He knew that it wasn't perfect, but sitting in a chair all day and still getting payed for it was a vast improvement from his regular duties.

He showed up to the mall as early as ever, this time sporting an over-sized red suit and frothy white beard. He waited with a kind of interested indifference for the mall to open along with three other workers he could not recognize. Each were wearing a green suit with pointed ears. His personal elves, he thought with a pacified grin.

In no time the mall opened, and with it came the children. He belted out his best Santa impression, adding a 'ho ho ho!' whenever possible with fabricated glee. His first child stomped upon his toes before plopping themselves harshly upon his knee. The second was a baby with bright blueish eyes and a blond curl of hair. Halfway through the visit he had a hefty helping of vomit upon his shoulder, of which the impatient parent had not apologized for. Steadily over time, child after child, his 'ho ho ho's became sparse and forced. As strange as it sounded in his thoughts, part of him longed to be back at his old boring job, and two whole weeks as Santa suddenly sounded like his own personal hell.

Lunchtime came to Tom's schedule, and left with a fierce swiftness that did little to lift his spirits. He knew he had another several hours to deal with drooling, snotty kids. He trudged back amongst the maddened Christmas shoppers and threw himself back upon the red-tinted throne.

“Merry Christmas,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, “Which child and I going to see next?”

A little girl stepped before him, her brown eyes staring blankly upon him. A fine constellation of freckles was smeared across her cheeks and nose. A simple chocolate-hued ponytail hung from her small head.

“Come on up on Santa's lap, little girl,” Tom said, sounding exceedingly uninterested.

The child carefully picked her way to him, ending with her legs swung around his leg. She stared up at him, her expression now expectant.

“Ho, ho,” Tom breathed out, “What would you like for Christmas?”

She paused a moment, fidgeting at her dress.

“For Christmas, I only want one thing, Santa,” she began, her eyes turned to the floor, “My parents back.”

An electric pulse went through Tom. He stared at her with a renewed energy.

“There was an accident three years ago,” she went on to explain, her voice sounding weak, “The doctors told me I was the only one left. I wish for them to come home every Christmas.”

She looked back up, those eyes boring into Tom's soul.

“Can it be this Christmas, Santa?” she said with a hopeful look, “I've been a really, really good girl this year. Just ask my caretakers!”

She pointed to two older people behind her. They waved simply.

“I-”

Tom's voice cracked. He was at a loss of anything to say. His eyes were blurry with tears.

“I'll try, little girl,” was all he could say.
“Thank you, Santa,” the girl replied before kissing him meekly on the cheek and leaping from him, to join the elderly couple.

Tom's heart felt as though it was going to force itself from his chest. He managed to hide his emotion just as the next child walked up to him with a shy look upon their face. He took a moment to wipe his eyes, then smiled down. Perhaps this job wasn't so bad after all.