Phoenix Sunrider
There’s paper scattered all over the room, blanketing the desk and floor like the snow that falls outside. A lone, big-bellied man sits behind the mountainous desk, his brow furrowed and the crumbs from his cookies sitting comfortably in his luscious snow-white beard. He mumbles to himself as he reads his list a second time.
‘Why does she never write?’ he says, staring at the name of the young Filipino girl who had spent her life in Australia. Kathleen Jones, one of the few children who never strayed from the nice list; also, one of the few who hadn’t written Santa a wish list. There were some children who forgot to write a letter, and some children who simply didn’t believe in Santa. Those kids always got the good they deserved, even if it meant labelling a present from a parent or guardian. But Kathleen was neither—she believed in Santa as much as she believed in the other Children Keepers, but in her whole time of believing she had never written to him. At first, Santa had thought the reason was because her parents had told her not to, but both Jones’ parents were avid list writers as children—besides, Santa always saw them try to convince their daughter to write, but she never did.
As Santa adjusts his glasses, thinking about what to get the girl this year, a young elf bursts into the room, tripping over papers and landing heavily on the hardwood floors.
‘My goodness!’ Santa exclaims, rushing over to help the elf. ‘Are you alright? Whatever has you in such a rush?’
‘I’m okay, Santa, sir,’ the elf responds with a smile. ‘I’m rushing because your wish came true!’
‘My wish?’ Santa thinks for only a moment before laughing a hearty ho ho ho! to the elf’s words. ‘Santa has no wishes, young elf! Those are reserved for the children!’
The elf smiles again. This time, however, his expression is more of a smirk as he holds the letter in his hand up to Santa’s gaze.
‘One guess, sir, as to which child this is from.’
Santa’s expression softens. Surely not? He glances over to the piles of paper on his desk, before looking back down at the elf. He takes the letter and reads the writing on the front. No child has this handwriting, not any one that he’s read.
‘It can’t be…’ he mumbles. ‘Kathleen?’
Santa glances down at the elf whose smile encourages one in return. He picks the elf up and throws him into the air, bells jingling across the room and papers flying everywhere.
‘She wrote! Kathleen wrote!’
‘A Christmas miracle, sir!’ The elf cheers. ‘Shall I inform Mrs Claus and the other elves?’
‘Yes, yes go tell them!’ Santa releases the elf, and he runs off as Santa hums a very merry tune to himself. His hums turn into whistles as he opens the letter, glancing at the bottom to see—Thanks for everything, Kathleen Jones.
‘A merry Christmas this will surely be,’ Santa says, as he begins to read. However, as he reads, his cheery expression fades. He reads the letter twice, to make sure his aging eyesaren’t tricking him.
‘Dear, I hear we have good news!’ Mrs Claus says cheerily as she enters the room. However, when she sees her husband’s face, she stops. ‘That’s awfully sullen for Santa Claus. Is everything alright with young Ms Jones?’
‘Dear Santa,’ he reads aloud. ‘I’m sorry for never writing to you. I promise I do believe you exist, because every year I ask for nothing, and every year you get me something I love. But I do wish to ask for something this year, because I’m afraid I’m growing up too fast and I’ll lose my belief in you.
‘I know that this is a busy time of year for you, dealing with everything and everyone in the world. But I thought I would just write to see—to see if I have a chance. I wish to ride upon your sleigh with you this Christmas Eve.
‘I would just really love to meet you, and of course the reindeer too! Donner, Blitzen, Dasher, Prancer… and Rudolf, shining as his own star. I’ve imagined how amazing it would be to fly across the sky, with stars sparkling all around us, and in every house you visit everyone sleeping safe and sound.
‘If there’s no room on the sleigh that night, I really do understand. There are millions of children for you to travel to in one night, and I’m only one. But maybe, one day, one year, you’ll be able to grant my wish.
‘My only Christmas wish is to ride upon your sleigh with you on Christmas Eve—a gift so great will allow me to believe in you forever.
‘Thank you for everything, Kathleen Jones,’ Santa finishes reading and looks up to his wife, who casts a weary glance back at him.
‘That’s an awful big wish,’ Mrs Claus mumbles. ‘But you know your rule: never disappoint.’
‘Yes, yes, I do remember,’ Santa sighs. ‘But I’m thinking of the other rule, the rule that keeps you and the elves safe.’
‘Never let a child on the sleigh,’ Mrs Claus finishes. ‘Whatever will you do, dear?’
‘Whatever I can,’ Santa says. ‘This is, as that young elf said, my wish. I cannot disappoint the one child whose letter I’ve been hoping for.’
Mrs Claus gives her husband a gentle kiss on the cheek before telling him, ‘You’ll figure it out. You know the children, you know Kathleen. I’m sure that you will be able to make something perfect for her.’
After several days of contemplation, Santa finally figured out what the perfect gift was. It took a lot of magic, a lot of patience, and a lot of elf help, but by Christmas Eve the gift for Kathleen—and every other child of the world—was ready. So, with bells jingling and elves singing, Santa greets all his reindeer and boards the sleigh, flying from the workshop with a ho ho ho! that calls through the North Pole.
*
The morning sun shines bright through the cold, casting a silhouette around the fluffy black cat on the windowsill. Fairy lights on the bushy tree twinkle in the morning light behind a small table that holds an empty glass and plate. Kathleen sits beside her parents in her comfy Christmas-themed pyjamas as they tear open gifts given and received from each other.
‘And here’s Kat’s gift from Santa!’ Kathleen’s mother exclaims, handing over the small box wrapped perfectly and labelled with a ribbon that sparkles like stars. ‘You sent him a letter this year, right? I wonder if you got your wish?’
‘I didn’t,’ Kathleen says as she reaches for the gift. ‘But I had a big wish, so it’s okay. I bet every kid wishes to ride the sleigh.’
‘Yeah, sorry kiddo,’ Kathleen’s dad says. ‘He’s got too many kids to take care of, and too many presents for the size of that craft.’
‘I know. I’m not upset,’ Kathleen’s voice doesn’t waver from its upbeat nature as she opens her gift. ‘But maybe one day he’d be able to…’
Inside the box is what looks like a magnificent snow globe with intricate carvings along the base and a glass dome clearer than a summer day. But as Kathleen looks closer her eyes fill with wonder—the snow globe comes to life in her hands. She can see the sleigh, herself and Santa; she can see the reindeer, the toys, the stars. She can feel the cool breeze against her skin and through her hair, can smell the fresh snow and the clean reindeer fur. She can hear the sleigh bells jingling and Santa’s triumphant ho ho ho! as if he were right beside her. She had asked for something impossible, after years of never asking for anything, and he had given her a memory.
‘Merry Christmas, Kathleen,’ she hears in what could only be Santa’s voice, speaking to her as if through her mind.
‘Merry Christmas, Santa.’
Phoenix Sunrider (they/she) is a fourth- and final-year Creative Writing major in the process of writing her debut fantasy novel, Blades of Fire. They mostly write, but also have interests in theatre, music, and visual arts, and wish to incorporate these forms into their storytelling.
Inspired by childhood classics such as Shirley Barber, Monster High Dolls, and Sailor Moon, Erin McKenna (she/her) aims to create whimsical, ethereal, and uncanny contemporary artwork. She mainly works in a digital space and discusses her personal experiences with mental and physical health, sexuality and liberation, and her relationship with her body.
Instagram: @erinxisobel