Santa - a short story by Vic Davey

 

Santa climbed wearily down from his sleigh and trudged along the snow covered path to his log cabin, hidden deep in the Pine forest. Tall fir trees stood around it as though on guard, heavily laden with fresh snow. A brisk breeze blew through the branches, sending showers of powdery snow, whirling and swirling into the air. 

A warm glow emanated from a large picture window at the front of the cabin, projecting a patchwork of reds and yellow and orange onto the glistening snow. Santa pushed open the cabin door and stamped his feet to free the loose snow clinging to his large black boots. He stepped inside, slamming the door behind him sending a wedge of snow sliding down the sloping roof to land with a crump on to the stone step outside.

A huge log fire blazed and crackled in the hearth, permeating every corner of the room with its heat. Hundreds of Fairy lights twinkled and streamers of tinsel shimmered and sparkled in the firelight. With a contented sigh, Santa eased himself into his large, favourite leather winged armchair, closed his eyes and within moments began to drift into grateful slumber, his long white beard, resting on his ample stomach started to rise and fall as his breathing deepened. 

Suddenly, the door to his Workshop flew open and in rushed the Christmas Fairy, agitated, red faced, her wings all aflutter. "Oh, thank goodness," she cried, "you're back! Wake up!" She got no response. She shook his shoulder. "Please wake up!"

"Hurumph, frumf" Santa groaned. She shook him again. "Please wake up!" She cried again. Santa stirred, opened one eye and peered at her over the top of his gold rimmed spectacles which had slid down his nose. "Go away!" He said, gruffly, closing his eye again. 

"You must wake up!" She repeated, almost shouting at him. Santa stirred again. "Leave me alone, wake me up in June" he said. 

"But I can't, it will be too late by then"

Santa was pretty much awake by now, his mood, very unfestive like. "I need to sleep, I've had a hell of a night, just go away." The Fairy just stood there, shocked at his demeanor. 

Santa sighed. "Look, Rudolph's nose went out over Dusseldorf and we ended back over Warsaw. A little girl in Paris started to wake up while I was filling her stocking and I tore my trousers scrambling back up the chimney. Donner and Blitzen decided to have a farting contest, it was awful and don't talk to me about the fog in New York. We went round the Statue of Liberty three times. Comet had a fit of diarrhea and poor Cupid was just behind him, so please, I'm begging you, just. let. me. sleep!"

"But Father Christmas, I don't know what to do. I have this Christmas tree left over, what shall I do with it?"

And Santa told her exactly what to do with it. And that's how the Fairy became to be on top of the Christmas tree.....