ma Fairytale
Gerrard Wilson
Copyright 2014 by Gerrard Wilson
A Christmas Fairytale
Contents
A Christmas Fairytale
A Christmas Fairytale
Christmas Eve so still I know,
But something’s in the wind,
There’s a sense of magic about,
It’s now we need our friends.
Christmas Eve began no different from any other morning this year. Yawning, I opened the blind to see what the day outside offered. It was cold and dark, a typical midwinter day, with a coating frost covering the ground, my car and a few scattered toys the children had absentmindedly left on the driveway the previous evening. Gazing through the steamed up windowpane, onto the frosty wonderland outside, I felt almost as cold as the weather outside. Grabbing hold of my dressing gown I donned quickly it. Embracing its wonderful warmth, I pulled it tightly closed around me. “That’s better,” I whispered, mindful of my wife and children who were still fast asleep in their beds.
Yawning some more, I ambled out from the bedroom, along the hallway then into the kitchen, where I plugged in the kettle for the most important part of the day; my first mug of coffee. For someone who has never imbibed of this aromatic concoction it is impossible for them to understand the importance, the urgency of it. Watching the granules dribble off the spoon, into my mug, sent my pulse racing, in anticipation of the delightful drink I was about to enjoy. “Coffee’s coming!” I said reassuringly to myself.
Pouring the hot, boiling water into my mug, drowning the coffee beans and realising their magical aroma, I smiled. Last, but not least, I added a few drops of milk; to colour it. My coffee was now ready to drink. Raising the mug to my lips, I drank heartily from it. It was truly wonderful.
Pulling out a stool from under the breakfast bar, I sat upon it. Grabbing hold of the TV remote control, I pressed the green button upon it, and then waited for the picture to appear. Being quite old, the TV took some time to warm up. When the picture finally appeared, my mind was drawn away from my coffee, to the scene playing upon it. Sitting erect, I stared incredulously at it. Edging closer and closer to the cathode ray tube, I gasped, “It’s him! That can’t be right. Where are the TV presenters?” I asked. Rubbing my eyes disbelievingly, I said, “It’s him! It really is him – FATHER CHRISTMAS!”I said it over and over again, as if in doing so might make some sense of it.
Pressing a button on the remote control, I checked to see if my TV was on the right channel; the news channel I watch every morning. I was on the correct channel. “If it’s the right channel,” I groaned. “Why, then, is he, Father Christmas, there instead of the usual presenters?” I asked, scratching mu head thoughtfully. “Moreover, why is he staring back at me – and grinning like a Cheshire Cat?” Moreover, he was. Father Christmas, staring out from the screen, was certainly grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat.
Pressing the button on the remote control, I switched to another channel. Groaning even louder than before, I said, “No! This cannot be happening; he is also on this channel!” Pressing the button again, I checked the next channel, then the next and also the next, but Father Christmas was on each and every channel I viewed, staring out from the screen, grinning in the same Cheshire Cat way.
Drumming the counter inquisitively, I said, “What’s going on here?” Then the penny dropped, and I remembered. “Sure, today is 24th December; Christmas Eve! Father Christmas is always about on Christmas Eve. That’s why he’s on TV; it must be some sort of seasonal promotion or charity event he is fronting!”
Believing that I had worked it out, why Father Christmas was appearing on every TV channel beamed into my house, I relaxed and thought nothing more of it. Grabbing hold of my mug, I drank heartily from it. “Bah,” I groaned, “it’s almost cold! Why does coffee taste so awful when it’s cold?” Standing up, I walked across to the kettle and switched it on. “After that bit of confusion regarding Santa, I need some more coffee – hot coffee!” I laughed. Returning to my stool, I sat there while I waited for the kettle to come to the boil. It was only then that I noticed some strange, peculiar. THE TV SET WAS NOT EVEN PLUGGED IN.
Scratching my head, bewildered by this turn of events, I tried to convince myself that I was not going barmy. “Hmm,” I said, grabbing hold of the TV remote, “I know how to sort this out.” Pressing the red button, I turned off the TV. “Hah, that has you sorted, you old scoundrel, Father Christmas, for grinning at me so,” I said, laughing at the TV. And for a while it did; the picture on the screen was out and it stayed out.
Just then, the kettle, having come to the boil, switched itself off. After placing a heaped teaspoon of coffee into my mug I added the hot water and then a few drops of milk. Sipping it, I said, “Ah, nectar from the gods. With you in my hand everything feels right in the world.”
“If that is what you think, then who am I to argue??” a voice, an old sounding voice, said to me.
Freezing, in fright, I whispered, “Who said that?”
“I did, of course,” the voice calmly replied.
“Who are you?” I timidly asked.
“Look up, Jeremiah.” the mysterious voice commanded. “Look up, and see the face of Christmas.”
Shaking, trembling, I lifted my gaze away from my mug, to the TV set in front of me. Then I saw him, Father Christmas, smiling and waving to me from inside the screen. I was so shocked, upon seeing this I dropped my mug and fell off the stool. Hitting the floor, the mug shattered into a thousand pieces, dispatching its piping hot contents far and wide.
“What has you so nervous, Jeremiah?” Father Christmas enquired of me.
Pulling myself up to the counter, nursing my hurt, I stared disbelievingly at the TV set. “Is that really you, Father Christmas?” I gasped, quite in surprise.
“It most certainly is, Jeremiah,” he answered.
“But why?”
“It’s Christmas, that’s why,” he explained.
Moreover, he was right. What better time to appear than at Christmas? “Can everyone see you?” I asked him.
Eying me with his large, round, friendly old eyes, he said, “You want to know if I am on everyone’s TV set in the country?”
“Yes, can everyone see you?” I asked him.
Before replying, however, he laughed, a loud, jovial belly laugh, and then he said, “No, I’m afraid not. I am only on your television set; I am here for your eyes only.”
After that, Santa’s mood changed, altered. He became quite, most unlike the overt, friendly old man that I – we have come to expect – and love – down through the years. I waited for him to resume speaking.
As I waited patiently for the old man to resume speaking, I found my mind wandering, my thoughts drifting, drifting back to my childhood days, a long time ago. I recalled, remembered how it was, being young, without a worry or care in the world. It was fantastic. How did I ever forget the magic of Christmas? I wondered out loud. Christmas, when anything is possible, if you believe that is so. Then my thoughts returned to the present and I realised – regretted – the tremendous loss I had incurred with the passage of time. Somehow, somewhere along the way I had lost something incredibly special – and I wanted it back, oh, I wanted it back! “It is so clear to me now,” I said to the old man in my TV, “that, with the passage of time, we lose the mindset that is open, willing to believe that anything – and everything is possible. I must do something to rectify this situation – I must!” Then, I saw him, Father Christmas, Santa, and all the other wonderful names he has been called, in time, looking out from the TV set, smiling congenially at me.
“You now see it, don’t you?” he said kind-heartedly to me.
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br /> Shaking excitedly, I replied, “I do, I most certainly do – and it’s fantastic! How did I lose it, the enchantment and wonder?” I asked him. “How did I grow blind to it, the magic of Christmas? There are children – across the entire planet – living this dream, with no idea whatsoever that adults have lost it.” Approaching the TV set, I implored, “What can I do to change this, to make it right again?” At this point, something most extraordinarily happened. For a second or two, I felt lightheaded, giddy, as if I was going to faint. Lowering my head, I closed my eyes and waited for it to pass. It did. When I opened my eyes, though, I was in for a shock, a big one, because standing directly in front of me was the old man himself, Father Christmas, red suit and all. Seeing this, I fell off the stool once again.
“Phew, I thought I might never get from there,” Father Christmas chuckled as I got up from the floor.
“You’re here!” I
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