The Magic of Christmas

It’s crazy Rosie,’ he said to his wife as they relaxed over a steaming mug of hot chocolate in their Village apartment, ‘I can’t tell anyone I’m Santa, but I can show them by using the magic. You would think one of these idiots that lives here would have told me that before now. Instead, I’m flying all over the world hoping kids will see me and start believing again, or trying to promote Christmas through crazy marketing ideas when all I have to do is magic a few Christmas lights and ornaments up.’

‘Travis calm down,’ she replied. ‘You might be Santa Claus but I bet you can still have a heart attack, besides now you know, you can get kids to believe again and the problem of not having enough magic will be over and done with. Just think, no more silly meetings with the Chief or the Union elf, we can sit back and get waited on hand and foot by the elves.’

‘Yeah, well I want to know why I wasn’t told. The chief has gone into hibernation, Arnold said he can’t see me until after the tree competition, because I asked him to see whoever oversees the magic, now he is forbidden to speak to me until he has an answer. Cedric is worse than useless; he quakes behind a load of papers if I come anywhere near him and then goes into a diatribe about chocolate breaks. I asked Santa John if they were always like this, or is it just me they save the stupidity for. His answer was not very encouraging.’

‘Excuse me.’ The voice of Sandea came from the opening doorway. ‘I’m sorry to intrude Santa, but you asked me to let you know when the letter from Gill Thompson arrived. It’s here.’ She smiled waving an envelope in the air, ‘and Bethany has also sent a letter.’ Another envelope was waved in the air while she waited for him to reply.

‘Thank you Sandea,’ he smiled at her, ‘leave them on the small table, I’ll get to them later.’

‘Yes Santa,’ she smiled with a quick curtsy. ‘Cook has just finished a batch of chocolate brownies. Would you like me to get some for you and maybe freshen up your hot chocolate?’

‘Yes, please Sandea.’ Rosie answered with a smile at the young elf, ‘Santa needs anything to relax him at the moment, nice fresh brownies and hot chocolate will do him the world of good.’

The Elf, beaming from ear to ear scurried away leaving Travis to amble over and retrieve the mail. He handed the envelope with Bethany’s writing to Rosie and opened Gill’s, quickly scanning the contents to see what she had written. It started Dear Santa, but that was about the only thing in it typical of the millions he received. She thanked him for letting her know he was Santa and asked that now she believed in him could she visit the north pole with her friend Bethany. A request he was only too happy to agree to if it would put a smile back on the face of his youngest daughter, but that could wait until tomorrow, or until the issue of who controls the magic was resolved.

The next morning, he was still half asleep with Rosie gently snoring away next to him, when the urgent knocking of Sandea on the bedroom door brought him fully awake.

‘I’m sorry Santa,’ she said entering the room to his shout to “come in” ‘but the Chief told me to ask you to attend a meeting in the boardroom as soon as you can.’

‘Thank you Sandea,’ he smiled at the young elf. ‘Can you rustle up some coffee and maybe a slice of toast before I attend?’

‘Already on the table in the living room,’ she smiled in return, giving an impish curtsy as she left the room.

He left his wife in bed while he sat slowly enjoying his coffee and toast. He had an inkling what the Chief wanted, probably to try and talk him out of using the magic and running it down to dangerous levels. In all probability, the talk would include emotional blackmail, and as such he was going to make the Chief wait until he was good and ready for him. Besides now he knew he could show people who he was, the matter of telling them became a little bit superfluous in the great scheme of things; not that he would admit it to the elves of course.

Travis thought it unusual to meet in the boardroom, but as the elves were a law unto themselves at times, he didn’t give it too much thought and was more than surprised when pushing door open expecting just the Chief to be waiting for him, not only was the Chief waiting, but the Secretary, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, a sprite, a fairy, the Solicitor and Union Elf, with two creatures he had never seen or met before, but knew instinctively they were a Hobgoblin and an Imp. At the top of the table sitting in pride of place with a scowl of annoyance on his face, was a miserable looking Leprechaun, complete with large green hat, rosy red cheeks and clutching a bunch of shamrock.

‘Please Santa,’ the chief said as he stopped to take in the gathered faerie folk, ‘come in and sit down, we have much to discuss.’

Travis went cold inside; the last thing he expected or wanted was a meeting of the Elven Council. Nothing ever constructive came out of them and he was always left seething by the stupidity they always showed. Slowly he walked to the table and sat in the offered chair determination coursing through him to walk out at the first mention of chocolate breaks.

‘Well to be sure you’re the one to be bringing me all the way here in this weather,’ the Leprechaun said in a thick Irish accent. ‘and these good folk too,’ he waved his hand to encompass the table, ‘all to sit and listen to your complaints about the magic.’

‘First of all,’ Travis replied with his hackles rising, ‘I never asked you here, I’ve never seen you before, second what’s a Leprechaun doing here? I thought your job was to guard the gold at the end of a rainbow? And third, why is everyone else here, why isn’t my wife here, and why wasn’t I told of this meeting earlier?’

‘Erm, perhaps I can explain,’ Arnold said in a raised voice before things could become heated. ‘You demanded to speak to whoever controls the magic,’ he said looking Travis in the eye. Well, Santa, it is us, everyone sitting around this table, and that includes you. All the rules regarding the magic have been made by all of us here, or by whoever did our jobs before us.’

‘So why the secrecy?’ Travis asked, ‘why wait until the last minute to tell me, why didn’t you tell me when I asked about this the other day?’

‘To be honest, I thought if I told you, you would have had a blue fit and refused to sit around the table with Cedric or Oswald. I thought it best to just ask you to attend when we were all here.’

‘OK, I’m not getting bogged down with this now,’ Travis replied, ‘but before we start I see three beings I have never met before, would it be too much to ask for an introduction?’

‘Of course,’ Arnold replied, ‘my apologies Santa. At the head of the table may I introduce Michael O’Connor, he is the head Leprechaun of the Tipperary tribe, to his left is Edel Klein a hobgoblin from Germany, and to his left is Celso Agua, a water imp from Spain.’

‘Thank you.’ Travis smiled. ‘Now we all know each other, can someone tell me what is going on?’

‘I think you should tell us,’ Michael replied, you’re the one threatening to run the magic down and destroy the very fabric of our existence. You do realise I hope, that without magic no one around this table will exist?’

‘I do,’ Travis rounded on him. ‘Yet everything I try and do I’m stopped, normally by the very magic I’m trying to increase and protect. I am in a ludicrous situation, I can make Christmas trees grow out of people’s heads, but I can’t tell someone I am Santa Claus. I want to bring kids here to the village, let them see the elves at work, so they can go home and tell their friends that Santa is real. But I can’t because the magic won’t let me, and unless changes are made to the way I can use the magic, everyone in this room is going to be out of a job within ten years.’

‘For the last two thousand years, the magic has been used by all the Santa’s without complaint.’ The leprechaun said in his thick Irish brogue. ‘Two thousand years and then you come along winging and crying, trying to change our way of life after only living here for what is it, about nine months.’

‘Maybe, just maybe,’ Travis replied sarcastically, ‘that in two thousand years no Santa has had to face the fact that within his reign as Santa, Christmas is in danger of becoming defunct and the elves, sprites, fairies even yourself Mr O’Connor, are going to fade away into nothingness when the magic fails. Make your mind up, all of you sitting around this table,’ Travis paused for effect and looked at each of them before finishing in a cold calculating voice, ‘continue to do nothing and die, or help me save your way of life.’

‘I’m with Santa,’ Cedric the union elf said standing to his feet. ‘He can be obnoxious, overbearing and headstrong, but he does have the interests of the village at heart.’

‘Me too,’ the Chief replied as Travis sat back with his mouth hanging open. The last thing he expected was the Union Elf, or the Chief for that matter, to side with him. They were both terrified of him and ran whenever they saw him in the village. ‘He is unorthodox in his methods and has made mistakes, but nowhere near as bad as some of the mistakes previous Santa’s have made.’

‘From a legal aspect,’ Arnold spoke, ‘Santa is in the wrong suggesting he runs down the magic, but his heart is in the right place and I seriously doubt should we push him, if he would follow through on his threats. Morally, of course, he is right, this law curtailing him from telling people the truth about himself is over two thousand years old, and while it might have had significance when it was introduced, I’m afraid in today’s modern world it falls short of expectations.’

‘Why now?’ asked the hobgoblin in heavy accented English. ‘Why couldn’t this matter have been brought up in the quiet months when time could have been allocated to discussion’s concerning the magic and action taken after considered thought. Michael and I have been led to believe the matter was urgent and a solution found immediately.’

‘Urgent in as much that Santa wants to introduce measures now,’ Arnold stood, stopping the Leprechaun from adding his twopence worth. ‘Before next year because next year the problem will be worse than it is now. Face it, if nothing is done to reverse the loss of magic we all have a very bleak future, and that includes you Michael. If Santa loses his magic, so do you and where will that leave you and your precious rainbow?’

‘What exactly do you want Santa?’ the Imp asked in perfect English despite his Spanish heritage. ‘My colleagues and I are of the understanding you want to fritter the magic away by flying all over the World and introducing alcohol into the village for your own consumption. If that is correct you will understand one of the reasons the laws as they stand are in place.’

‘Celso,’ replied Travis trying not very successfully to get his tongue around the Spanish name. ‘If that is all I wanted the magic for then yes I can see the need for the present laws, but I have been flying all over the western world in the hope I would be seen and therefore people start believing again. The alcohol drink was never intended for the village but for people outside. The idea was abandoned when we learned a supermarket chain already has a line in beer with the face of a Santa on the label. We do however have a soft drink, of chocolate flavoured cola due out in November for the children, in the hope kids will start believing again. What I want is simple. I want to be able to tell people who I am without them thinking I am crazy. I want to invite children here to the village to see how the toys are made, how the elves live, how we look after the reindeer, so they go away and tell their friends Santa is real. I think it stupid a Grotto Santa can say “I am Santa Claus” and I can’t. It is a ludicrous situation that is literally killing this place.’