The Night Santa Died

    Rudolph stood in all his fine Christmas harness ready to lead the reindeer on their flight around the world. The night was crisp and bright, with a myriad of silver twinkling stars pinned against the black velvet sky.  Santa had ordered a clear night free from cloud or wind from the weather elves, and knowing the importance of the night they had cheerfully obliged. The sleigh lay resplendent in all its finery, it twinkled and sparkled as it had done through all the years of use and still not faded. There was only one Santa sleigh, and there could only be one. It had been made in time long past by an ancient elfin tribe that had hewn the wood from an enchanted forest, decorated it with gems that had been washed by a long forgotten magical spring and coated its runners with a wondrous white gold. It had in it a spirit that was all that Christmas was, a spirit of good will, hope and love. The reindeers all stiffened, they stood with their antlers glistening in the moonlight as Santa approached across the crunching snow. “Hello Rudolph – Dasher, Dancer, Donner, Blitzen.” He greeted all the reindeer in turn making sure to not miss anyone out, after all they were not just his reindeer but were also his friends. “Are we already for our most wonderful task on this beautiful Christmas Eve?” Santa spoke with a happiness that could not be denied, a happiness that was infectious and that spread through all that would be near him. All except one that is, Rudolph it could be seen was lowering his head and gently shaking it from side to side. His nose that was renowned for its brightness was much dimmer than usual and his eyes had lost some of their lustre. “Come Rudolph,” Santa said in a cheery tone, “What ails my trusty friend on this most special day of the year. Do you not relish this opportunity to reward all those good kind children, for do we not bring happiness to all children; rich and poor alike?” Rudolph spoke in a quiet voice that was more of a whisper, though his lips never moved his voice was clear. “My good Santa it’s not the same. We have brought good cheer and happiness to all that are young in years for millennia, but in this age things have changed. No longer are children satisfied with a wooden toy, no longer do girls play with dolls or whip and tops. It seems that avarice and greed are the order of the day. It seems that from the age of five these children have grown past their years, no longer is it enough that a child receives a present but it has to be a present that costs a lot of money. It is a present that has to be able to be switched on and then they sit and it entertains them, they no longer play or are active like a child should be. Their childhood has gone before they even know that they have been a child.” The merest trace of concern could be seen in the face of Santa. “No Rudolph, you paint a black picture, surely these children still believe in me and in the spirit that Christmas brings. I have no doubt that they know that it is the act of giving that is the point and not the value of the gift. Please let us not doubt that in their hearts they know that Christmas is really a celebration of the birth of Christ and that is the point of Christmas and not a present giving festival. It truly would be a sad world if all these children thought that the receiving of gifts was all that Christmas was about.” Rudolph’s voice rode crisp and clear on the cold night air. "You think I exaggerate Santa, but if you would look in the sacks that we carry then you would see that my concerns are valid, no longer do we carry childrens' toys for children. Instead we carry goods for little adults. Instead of bats, balls and board games we deliver Mobile telephones, Play Stations, iPods and computers of all descriptions!” Santa began to lose his smile but he would have none of it. “No; children are children, now come on Rudolph for my sake cheer up and enter into the spirit of this day.” “Very well Santa,” came the whisper, “For you I ignore my feelings and thoughts and with you I bring the old Christmas to one and all.” With this Rudolph’s nose brightened as his neck stiffened and his right hoof pawed the ground eager for the off. A great “Ho ho ho,” came from Santa, “So come my friends we have places to go and children to see, our first stop is up town New York. We fly straight and true to Lucy aged seven, she is to be our starting point this beautiful, wonderful Christmas.” And as Santa stepped into the sleigh he called, “Now fly my friends let us see your hooves strike the stars and bring wonder and loving to Christmas Eve.” Then with a snort and a ringing of harness the reindeer began to haul their precious load off the snow and into the air.

     Santa’s sleigh flew with purpose over the ice mass of Greenland and out into the Atlantic where he took a right towards the lights of the American sea board. Rudolph led the team with his unerring sense of direction to little Lucy’s house; now faster than light he descended from the place that housed the stars, diving faster and faster towards their destination. Now in a great sweeping arch over Queens, North Bergen, East Orange and Richmond, in a great spiral they flew and all the time with one destination in mind. The sleigh came in so fast that no one could see them or hear them. They came upon Lucy’s house in an instant and parked on the old roof, the shingles in front of Rudolph were bathed in the soft red glow from his nose as Santa pulled heavily on the old hand brake. Having the sleigh plus reindeer slide off the roof would just not do at all. In a moment Santa was out and with a click of his fingers he appeared in the living room next to the tree, most chimneys had gone now so he had over the years found another way to deliver his presents. He looked around to see some family presents already under the tree and began to open his sack in order to get his presents out to place them also on the floor; when he heard a small voice behind him. “Stop that, those are our presents!” Santa turned only to find Lucy standing there with a glass of milk. “Oh no Lucy, I’m Santa Clause and I’m bringing you presents, not taking them.” The small childish voice was now angry and began shouting, “No your not, there is no such person, I’m seven and I know cos the kids in my class have told me so. You are stealing the presents my mum and dad have bought.” Santa thought that he could not spend the time having an intellectual discussion on the reality of Santa and his place in the Christmas festivities. So he turned his back on the child in order to retrieve the presents from the sack. Lucy on the other hand, had in her mind some disjointed information on Santa, presents, mummy Christmas shopping, Santas on every street corner begging for money and those nasty men called burglars. So putting her glass of milk carefully on a small telephone table, she opened a small drawer beneath the phone and took out an old Harrington and Richardson .22 revolver. Then grasping it in both hands she pointed it in the general direction of Santa’s back. At the same time she was squeezing the trigger with all her might she was also squeezing her eyes tight shut. There was a loud crack and a bright flash, the violence of the explosion made the gun fly from her hand and deposited Lucy with due force on her rear. She immediately jumped up and made for her parents’ bedroom crying, “I’ve shot a burglar, mum, dad come quick I’ve shot a burglar trying to steal our presents.” 

      Santa lay face down, his red coat now two tone in colour, an ever increasing darker red stain now advancing in size. Santa’s eyes now staring in disbelief at the event that had taken place; he had only come to bring presents, to give happiness. But this child had without any kind of hesitation shot him in the back. His thoughts were not of himself but of who would deliver the presents this Christmas. The life began to ebb from his body, his eyes began to cloud, Santa Clause was dying and by the hand of a child. What world was this where a child can even hold a gun let alone fire it, what does it say for the adults of this world that children can know of death and killing, and the machines that bring it about? His lips parted slightly as he emitted a last long sigh and he was no more. His body and clothes began to crumble into a powder, and that powder into a finer powder until there was no sign of Santa ever having been there; save for a small .22 bullet lying on the floor. On the roof the sleigh turned into pieces of old wood and then into dust. Santa’s old friends the reindeer left the mind of man like popping soap bubbles. The next day there was no more Santa Clause because there was no longer any more children; only little adults with adult toys and adult thoughts. And Santa Clause? Well he is just a figment of some foolish peoples' imagination.

The End