by The Awethors
“Madam. Santa Claus has denied the charges against him, namely cruelty to children. I shall now proceed to show you just why Santa Claus is guilty of the offences as charged.”
Mrs. McHarris gave an irritated wave of her claw-like hand. “Yes, yes, do get on with it Mr. Chatstock.”
“Call the prosecution witness, Miss Anne McGuigan.”
As she went through the formalities of pledging to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I stared at her, trying to remember where I’d seen her before. Of course, it had been in this very courtroom a few months ago.
She’s a social worker and had again been involved in a case of cruelty to children. “Miss McGuigan,” old Chatstock was saying. “Will you tell the court in your own words exactly what effect Father Christmas’s actions have been having on children?”
“With pleasure. That man has completely wrecked the spirit of Christmas. It can never be the same again as long as he’s out there, supposed to be bringing joy and happiness to all those poor little souls, when all he does is bring misery and heartache.
“He did it all right. It was him who came down all those chimneys on Christmas morning, no-one else.”
The mean little mouth turned even more sulky. “The happiness amongst children on Christmas morning over the past few years has been very limited. They’ve opened the presents Santa brought them and their little eyes have lit up with wonder and awe.
“But when they get together and compare presents, each child feels their friends’ gifts are always better than their own. They start to ask each other how much the presents cost, and they become discontented. That feeling quickly grows to a fierce jealousy, and in a very short time their sweet innocence becomes a lingering hate and resentment that they haven’t got a bigger, better, more expensive gift. If that isn’t cruel to the poor little dears, upsetting them like that, then I don’t know what is.”
Miss McGuigan continued in the same vein for another half hour, and was followed by a succession of children all saying what Christmas meant to them.
“It means presents.”
“Lots to eat.”
“I think it’s about some geezer who died and we remember the day he died.”
“I like the chocolates.”
“Dad gets drunk and Mum cries.”
“It means I can get a new computer. The one Santa brought me last year isn’t as good as Robin’s, so I want a better one.”
“It’s Santa’s birthday, but instead of us giving him presents he gives us things instead.”
“Billy’s present always cost more than mine, so I like to break it when he lets me play with it.”
Then it was Santa’s turn. “Madam.” His booming voice echoed around the ancient timbers. “I can’t deny that what much of the prosecution says is true. The spirit of Christmas—its true meaning—has been wrecked. Some children turn bitter and twisted when they see a better toy than theirs, or one which was more expensive, and it does rob them of their innocence at a painfully early age. Oh yes, I agree that is wrong. But you can’t blame me for it. I’m afraid Mankind’s progress through time has become tarnished. The further he goes and the more he gets, the more he wants.
“Whatever happened to families going to church together on Christmas morning, and it was a time for rejoicing because our Saviour had come to Earth on that day two thousand years before?
“He came to save the world, to show its people the way forward. If ever it’s possible for Him to come again, the time is now, for Mankind has strayed from the path He showed them. They’ve let grasp and greed cloud their lives and they’ve lost sight of the true road ahead. Everyone strives for something better and they always want the greener grass on the other side.
“The world is what people have made it. And people are what the world has made them.
“You can’t hold me responsible for that. If anyone’s being cruel to children, it’s their parents, for giving them too many material possessions and not enough love and spirituality. Children grow up with everything handed to them and with no appreciation of values—either material values, or more importantly, spiritual values.
“But remember this—the spirit of Christmas is still there for those who choose to seek it. For that reason, if you find me not guilty, Christmas will continue to come to the world every year, despite the self-destructive path Mankind is taking. But think of this—can the world survive if we no longer celebrate the birth of its saviour? I put it to you, that it cannot.”
He stopped speaking and gently lowered himself into his seat.
Mrs McHarris stood up. “If that’s all you wish to say, Santa Claus, then we’ll retire to consider our verdict.”
Now, it wasn’t the first time I’d dozed off for a few moments while waiting for the magistrates to make their decision. I awoke with a start when Mrs. McHarris tapped her gavel sharply on its block. For a couple of seconds I looked at her in astonishment. Her pointed cap and fringed shawl were gone. And the grim tweed jacket was back.
Santa was gone, too. His place taken again by the wimpish wally.
Through the ensuing days I tried to work out just what had happened in that courtroom and what the verdict could possibly be.
But Santa came as usual on Christmas morning. I reckon he must have been found not guilty. What was it he said? Oh yes: “But remember this—the spirit of Christmas is still there for those who choose to seek it. For that reason, if you find me not guilty, Christmas will continue to come to the world every year, despite the self-destructive path Mankind is taking. But think of this—can the world survive if we no longer celebrate the birth of its saviour? I put it to you, that it cannot.”
I think that says it all, don’t you?
A Christmas of Ice
K M Robinson
“Wow, Leslie pitched that one.” Erica sings melodramatically next to me.
“Next time you start the song, Erica.” I chastise playfully. Everyone grumbles good-naturedly, despite the incredibly high rendition of the Christmas carol we have just sung.
“Don’t look now, but there’s a really cute guy staring at you, roomie.” Erica bumps into my shoulder before launching into another song.
As the last notes echo, the family who lives in the house we are standing in front of claps, the man rushing out to offer us money. We decline politely and walk to the next house.
The house owners gather on the porch and I notice I am being watched. Carter grins at me, adjusting his hat, his blond bangs peeking out from under the brim. He slips a few steps closer to me, putting only a few people between us.
“What is that boy doing?” I mumble to myself.
“Leslie, the Andersons were nice enough to invite us to bring all our friends over here to carol in their complex and you’re wasting time staring at boys?” She demands in a sarcastic voice, parroting the words I had said to her not ten minutes earlier.
“Well excuse me!” I pretend to huff at her words. “What do you expect me to do when my boyfriend insists on standing at the opposite side of the group and grins at me the entire time?”
“Is he playing hard to get?” she asks “Because I’m pretty sure you caught him freshman year when he asked you out to dinner and you ditched our study group for him.”
“Oh please, you would have dropped study group for a boy that cute too.” I reply as we step up to a house covered in icicle lights. The cold wind hits me in the face, blowing back my hair. Suddenly I wish to be back inside.
“Honey, I ditched study group for boys half as cute as your man.” We giggle and Erica starts the next song. Erica had been in charge of the entire outing, from getting our adopted college church family to allow us to take over their neighborhood, to picking the songs we would sing. I was dying for the hot apple cider and hot chocolate the Andersons had waiting for us back at their home.
An elderly couple greets us at their doorway, the husband draping a blanket over his wife’s shoulders. They hold hands as the
y wait for us to start our song.
As if possessed by the need to please them, I start one of my favorite carols, slowly filling the street with its soft melody. I can hear a few of the carolers struggling to sing as high as me, prompting me to be louder to fill the space they leave when they drop out.
My voice catches for a moment as a hand slips into mine, startling me. Looking to my right, I discover Carter has managed to sneak up on me. He pulls me close to his side and sings with me, finishing the song. He immediately starts singing another, this one faster. The rest of the group doesn’t know it, but the song holds special meaning to me, having been written in my hometown. The last words drop off and the older woman clutches her hand to her heart.
“Lovely, just lovely.” She murmurs. Her husband thanks us profusely before escorting his beautiful wife inside.
Carter buries his lips in my hair sending a shiver down my spine.
“Not too cold, are you?” Erica glances sideways at me. “You look pretty cozy to me.”
“Oh be quiet.” I wave my hand at her, threatening her.
“I certainly wouldn’t be quiet about the fact that I have been dating for as long as you have been, if I were you,” she mocks, eyes sparking like the lights on the house we are stopping at.
“It will be four years next month.” I say, far too dreamily, and lean into my boyfriend. “Quite honestly, I’m surprised we’ve made it this long. I thought for sure by now Erica would have smothered me in my sleep one night so she could steal you away.”
Carter grins before leaning around me and giving my roommate a dramatic wink. “Shhh, you weren’t supposed to tell her about the plan.”
His joke sends us all into a ripple of laughter. The children hanging out of the windows shout to us, asking why we are laughing. Carter picks a peppy song and we all race through three rounds of it before we move on. Reindeer and a snowman litter the next yard.
“Besides, I could never smother you,” Erica says. “The dorm walls are far too thin. Gina and Louise would hear and come save you.”
The kids, still hanging from the snowflake covered windows, shriek as Carter leans over and kisses me. Erica picks up their chanting and the entire group whistles at us as we walk to the final house on the street. It’s dark and would look abandoned if not for the few strings of unlit lights on the front porch.
“I don’t think anyone is home.” I say as we walk part way up the drive.
“Let’s sing anyway.” Marcia, our hostess, says, nodding enthusiastically to the group. She grins at me and motions for me to sing. After a quizzical look, I join into the song my best friend has already started singing beside me.
The world is silent as the song comes to an end. We are about to move on when the entire place springs to life. Lights flip on all around us, wrapped through the trees and around the porch. Fountains of twinkle lights cascade in the side yards, blinking like fireflies. The soft glow of the yellow lights fills the space and gives the dark night sky a dreamy look.
Carter grins at me and grabs my hand. Glancing around I notice no one else in our group looks confused. Carter pulls me closer to the house and spins me around to face him as my eyes still search to take in the atmosphere around us.
Music suddenly fills the air, echoing off of the houses, and yet the entire world seems incredibly still. Carter takes a step away from me, hands outstretched between us. I grin foolishly as he smiles at me. We watch each other for a moment as the snow starts to build on our hair and shoulders. Somehow I missed the start of the flakes.
Carter belts out the lines of the song about snowmen asking if we’re married, the same song written in my hometown he had sung before. Only when I hear people screaming around us do I understand.
The ring sparkles like the icicles that decorated the Anderson family home as Carter bends down on one knee. I hear only his words as he speaks of his love for me. Throwing my arms around him, he spins me in circles, elated at my answer. We dance in the moonlit snow in the soft glow of the twinkle lights as the song continues. Our friends pick up the words, shouting loudly for the entire neighborhood to hear. When we finally slow our dance, I realize the voices are much louder than before. Carter twirls me, bringing me to a stop to face the abandoned house where I find my entire family surrounding the steps.
Carter, a Christmas miracle all my own, has given me the best gift he ever could: a promise to be with me forever, and my family there to witness my happiest moment to date.
My parents escort me inside and I realize it’s not just my family, but my new family as well. The inside of the house is decorated as lovely as the outside. The air is filled with music as everyone sings around the piano. I had never seen it coming.
The night is incredible, full of laughter, friends and fun. I yell at my caroling group for keeping the secret from me, but they just make jokes about getting coal for it.
“Are you happy?” Carter asks as I curl against him on the couch.
“How did you do this?” I ask him, smiling.
“Christmas is a time for miracles, Leslie. It’s also the time employees get time off from work and bosses are more than happy to give an earlier day, especially if it means they work an extra day closer to the big event.”
“You even got our families,” I say, still in disbelief.
“Family.” He corrects. “Our family.”
“How long have you been planning this?” I ask.
“About as long as the trip to Bethlehem,” he jokes. His smile turns serious. “Leslie Ann Matthews, I have loved you from the moment I met you.”
“Hey! Here’s the perfect song to end the night, dedicated to Leslie and Carter!” Erica shouts above the crowd.
She bursts into the Hallelujah Chorus and we all sing along.
Evergreen
Karen J Mossman
Outside the window snowflakes are falling, covering the ground with a rich layer of white snow. Inside it’s warm and our tree is large this year as it stands in the corner with presents underneath. Baubles and ornaments adorn it and lights twinkle. I love sitting in my chair just looking at it, remembering Christmases gone by.
We are sitting round the table with good wine, good food, Christmas crackers, table settings and silly hats. I love each one of them and they are not my first family. I’ve had families, but none as perfect as this.
Bob was my first husband. We met at school. We had to hide the way we felt.
“Why don’t you meet me after school?” Bob said when it became evident our feelings had become dangerous.
“The cafe behind the High Street?” I suggested, as my heart fluttered.
I was there first, in my uniform, aged 18. His eyes swept the room and my stomach gave way to butterflies. He was so lovely, especially in his cable knit sweater. It looked warm and cuddly. His eyes came to rest on me, and his face lit up. I had died and gone to heaven.
“Can I buy you a coffee, Emma?” he said striding over to me.
“Yes, please.”
Sitting down a minute later we reached for each other’s hand under under the table.
“You know how I feel about you?” he said.
“I know and I feel the same, but what are we going to do?”
He looked sad. “I could lose my job if people found out about us.”
“I don’t want that.”
“It means we can’t be together yet, we have to wait until you finish school.”
“I could finish now,” I said hopefully, knowing my parents would go mad, but I’d do anything to be with him.
He shook his head, “I’m a teacher, your education is important to me. We’ll be judged if we start this too soon.”
In my heart of hearts I knew he was right, but it was hard. We met occasionally outside of school and it was passionate. We didn’t even consider the age difference and that’s what people frowned upon the most. My parents didn’t like it.
His mum and his sister, her family and my parents joined us for Christ
mas dinner that first year and it was a strained affair. I was too young and he was too old, but we proved them all wrong. We were married 20 years until he had a heart attack and I was alone.
A year later I met Craig, he was a gardener in the local park and soon he was doing my garden. In contrast he was 5 years younger than me. I kept myself in good shape and in the summer he worked temptingly topless. I returned from a run by the river and as I walked up the path to my house I said, “It looks like hot work.” What I really meant was he looked hot as beads of sweat glistened on his torso.
He wiped his forehead with his forearm and smiled. “It is, and you look like you’ve been busy, too.”
My hair was up in a pony-tail, I was wearing a tee-shirt and shorts and liked the way his eyes rolled over me. “I’ll bring you out a drink,” I said with a smile.
As time went on, winter set in and he was calling round for hot drinks.
“I can’t this stand it anymore,” he said, one day standing very close to me. “Do you realise how I feel about you?”
The palm of my hand went up to his chest, “No, but I’d love to find out.”
He pushed me back on the settee and our passion overflowed. We spent more and more time together and eventually he didn’t go home. We were married and Christmas came along with a different family around the table. I always loved just sitting and looking at the tree with its baubles and memories. To me it was evergreen.
We’d been married less than a year when he fell asleep in the chair dropping his cigarette. I woke up in the bedroom smelling smoke and managed to climb out of the window. I lost everything, including Craig.
As my parents had died a few years previously and I didn’t have any children, I found myself alone.
Then I met Martin, and he was the true love of my life. He was so handsome with dark hair, dark brooding eyes and of course, that uniform.
“I didn’t think you would look at me twice,” he told me when we realised we were falling in love.
“Why not?” I asked as we walked down the lane back to his parent’s cottage. They were my friends and I didn’t think I’d become involved with their son. When he arrived home from a tour of duty, something clicked between us.
