[Keplaz]

A nine year old decides to prove that Santa isn't real.

“Stop it James! Just stop it!!” she wailed, the tears dribbling down her rosy cheeks as she ran up the stairs.

“He isn't real Jane. You hear me? He isn't real!” the boy shouted back as he chased after her.

“It's not true! I won't believe it. You'll see tomorrow morning and Santa won't give you anything because you are on the naughty list for telling lies.”

“There won't be a Santa this year, don't you see Jane? Dad lost his job...” but the boy couldn't finish his sentence as the bedroom door was slammed in his face.

He sat on the landing, his skin flushed from all the running, holding his face in his hands, and the unruly black hair dangling from his head. He knew he probably shouldn't have told her. It was cruel and unfair. But Jane was nearly seven and it was time she knew the truth. He'd known for a while now. He had suspected for a long time that it wasn't real, how Santa and his dad were never in the room at the same time. A bit like his Superman comics. The whole Clark Kent without his glasses thing, only it was his dad with a bright red suit and a fake beard. He'd tried to keep believing, tried to ignore the evidence but he was nine years old now and the brightest kid in his class. How long did his parents think they could fool him?

How come every time dad wasn't working or had had to pay for Gran's medicine Santa didn't come? Yeah, he'd broken a window with his football and thrown rocks at Whiskers the cat from next door, but he'd done a lot of good things too and surely it all cancelled out, so he really should have made the “Nice” list last year, so how come that Mountain Bike he'd wanted had never arrived? Why did he find all the letters he'd ever written to Father Christmas hidden in his mum's wardrobe? The whole Santa thing was a big phony and he didn't want Jane to be disappointed when she found out for herself. James suddenly had an idea and his round face lit up brightly. He would prove Santa didn't exist. The presents were not enough proof. Maybe dad had bought them before he was made redundant. He needed hardcore evidence. He was going to join the Police one day and he knew no one could argue with evidence. He would have to show Jane that Santa wasn't real and then she couldn't argue any more. He, James Cooper was going to capture Santa Claus.

At first James thought of hiding dad's Santa suit and burying the fake beard in the garden. He'd seen it hanging in his parents' wardrobe. But that was far too easy. There was still enough time for dad to buy another one. Santa needed to be caught red handed and unmasked with Jane watching so she couldn't call him a liar any more. The answer was clear to him. It was all brown and white. Cookies and milk. It was greed that would expose Santa for the fraud that he was. He knew where mum kept Gran's sleeping pills. Two pills dropped in the milk would be enough to knock dad out till the morning and then when Jane woke up in the morning and ran downstairs, James would take the beard off the still sleeping dad. It was the perfect plan.

For the first time that year James went to bed without having to be told twice. He was a good boy at heart really but he was at that difficult age all boys seemed to go through. There's nothing worse than being a nine year old boy, maybe a bright nine year old boy and that made James even worse. He was almost sickeningly polite all evening, making sure he helped mum with the dishes, helping dad with the last minute tree decorations and even sitting up with Gran because she was too ill to come downstairs for dinner. James nearly burst out laughing when Jane had remarked that maybe it wasn't too late for him to get on the “Nice” list this year, but he'd kept it in and smiled at her. He couldn't afford to give himself away.

When James got to bed, he found he couldn't sleep. The excitement made his pudgy little body tingle and he wondered if that's what it felt like when people got struck by lightning. The sleeping pills had been smuggled very easily out of Gran's bedroom the minute she'd fallen asleep and were now burning a hole in the top pocket of James' pyjamas. He knew he shouldn't keep touching them but he couldn't help himself. He listened carefully as Jane announced that she was putting some milk and cookies out for Santa and he grinned as he heard mum and dad's padded steps as they finished off their sherry and went to bed. James slipped carefully out of his Superman Duvet, put on his slippers and quietly crept out of the room. He wanted to run and could barely keep himself from skipping steps but this was a covert operation. He'd heard the word in the James Bond movie, he'd watched with dad a few weeks ago, he knew it meant secret. That made him a sort of spy, like James Bond even, no, James Cooper.

The tall glass of milk was gleaming beautifully in dark room that was lit by the fairy lights on the Christmas tree. The lights kept blinking as they changed colour and the room looked magical. A beautiful angel that he and Jane had made was watching him from the tree and James could have sworn it looked sad. But that wasn't possible, paper mache angels couldn't look sad. The living room was so wonderfully decorated with golden frilly banners, bits of mistletoe hanging everywhere, holly branches that he and dad had bought from the flower store and the magnificent tree with the presents snuggled underneath it. The room seemed to be different somehow. It felt alive and James was beginning to feel uneasy. He edged around the tree and stood by the glass of milk, wondering if this was the right thing to do. There was nothing wrong with letting Jane believe in Santa for another year was there? He suddenly felt angry at himself for even thinking about not doing it and he popped the pills into the glass. They sunk into the white liquid slowly, leaving a few bubbles as they disappeared.

James smiled at himself. It was done now, all he had to do was to go to sleep and in the morning, Santa would be revealed to be a fraud, once and for all. He felt as if someone was watching him and he looked up suddenly and the paper mache angel seemed to have tears streaming down it's cheeks. The Rudolph stocking on the mental piece seemed to be holding a handkerchief and James was sure a guilty conscience and tiredness were making him go mad. He was doing it for Jane he tried to tell himself but the guilt refused to go away. As James was about to scale the stairs and go to sleep, there a huge whoosh and a strong gust of wind swept through the living room. His spine began to tingle even worse and he suddenly found that he couldn't move a single bone in his body. The whooshing noise grew louder and out of it came a loud bellow of “Ho ho ho.”

He could only watch and stare as the angel climbed off the tree and started dancing. The angel that had been wet paper only a few days ago was dancing right in front of his eyes. He could hardly watch the dance however, something even more weird was happening in the fire place. First, there was a mighty banging sound as a huge sack, brown but sewn together by what looked like silk landed with a thud on the ceramic tiles around the fire place. It wasn't one of those big fireplaces but a small one for their gas fire, but it seemed to be big enough for the sack which had started of small but then expanded as it had hit the floor. The bells on the the Christmas tree started to ring and first a foot in black boots came out, then another and then two legs clad in red trousers and then a padded belly came out of the fire place. Within moments a the biggest human being James had ever seen had stepped into the living room.

All the Christmas carols James had ever heard seemed to be playing at the same time, like theme music but it sounded beautiful and not muddled. James wanted to scream but he found that nothing he owned seemed to work apart from his eyes and ears. The huge man had rosy pink cheeks, little glasses perched on the bridge of his nose hiding twinkling eyes and a bushy beard that looked fake but was incredibly real. Make no mistake about it that man was Father Christmas. But he couldn't be. James' dad and that fake suit was Father Christmas, this must all be a dream. His guilt playing tricks with him but this didn't feel like a dream. The man in red walked over to the Christmas tree, he seemed unaware of James' presence, bellowing a “Ho ho ho” every once in a while and picking each box up carefully before shaking it a little, giving a satisfied nod and placing it back. After he'd checked all the presents he walked towards the glass of milk, munched all the cookies in one gulp and placed the glass to his lips.

James wanted to shout no but his voice wouldn't let him. Just before the man had drunk the milk, he turned around and smiled at James. The smile would have lit up any room like a thousand watt bulb and James' body got even more prickly.

“I never drink the milk anymore James, I bring my own,” he said waving a golden flask in the air and taking a huge sip, “A boy called Harold Cooper trapped me thirty years ago and I missed most of Christmas that year,” the Santa man bellowed, the smile still in his voice.

Harold Cooper that was his dad's name wasn't it.

“Yes, your dad James. You are exactly like he was at that age. A delightful mix between naughty and nice. Between you and me, I don't keep a list anymore. Every child is a mix between naughty and nice and even the nicest child in the world is capable of doing naughty things,” Santa said.

“I don't usually reveal myself and would have waited for you to go to bed but I felt you had to know the truth. I do exist James. I've learnt over the years that sometimes what kids ask for isn't what's best for them so I let the parents decide. I didn't get you that bike last year because you needed the Science kit, your dad got you even more. You'll get the bike next year,” Father Christmas said with a twinkle in his eye, “I guarantee it. I run a checking service these days. Making sure every child gets the present that's right for them, only when the present is wrong or if the parents can't really afford, do I slip one in from my sack. Your mum and dad haven't been wrong yet James and I haven't needed to step in for them.”

James could barely understand what Santa was saying. He did exist but he let mum and dad pick the presents because they knew what the child needed better than he did? It did make sense though, his parents stayed with him all year. James could feel the joy soaring in his chest, he was getting the bike next year.

“Now be good James and take care of your sister. Make sure that milk is thrown away before your dad comes down, we don't want any accidents. You must excuse me James I have about fifty million more houses to visit so I can't really stay with you. Now where did I put that sack? Oh, here it is. Merry Christmas James,” Santa said, “I really need to watch the cookies, these chimneys are getting smaller every year.”

With a final “Ho ho ho” he was sucked up into the fireplace as curiously as he'd arrived. The angel climbed back up the tree and the Rudolph stockings were smiling again. James found he could now move his tingling body and he ran up the stairs not bothering to be quiet and leapt straight into Jane's room, he had a million things to tell her.

[Jimbalaya]

Not bad, Kep. Something you could sit down and read to the kiddies. A good story, but I don't feel that it is up to par with your usual stuff. You generally write like painters paint. Very visual. I didn't think this was as visual as some of your other stuff, but I did like it. Keep up the good work!

[RENA HANDS]

What about saying…You’ll see tomorrow when Santa brings nothing for you because you’re on his Naughty list for telling lies.?

Why was he searching his mum’s wardrobe?

James is 9 and using the word “redundant?”

What about…

Being a cop, that’s what he was going to be…they live and die by concrete evidence.?

(Or something similar)

For a nine year old you are showing great maturity.

What about saying…

James is synical* nine year old.?

I think Mom, Dad and Sherry should be capitalized.

If he’s so smug already then why not say…this was a covert operation after all. (Excluding “but.”)?

What nine year old watches a James Bond flick?

What about…

A magical room; twinkling/shimmering tree with all its ornaments. The blinking lights of Christmas joy. A tall glass of milk an ivory beacon of truth. What will the morning bring??

You want something more dramatic than “sad.”

Your jumbling/jumping around with your “living room” scene. Though I suppose it would be because he’s seeing this from a child’s point of view.

I would say in separate sentences…

The angel was ashamed. Rudolph sobbed with disappointment. He shrugged of his disillusions. He was just exhausted.? (Or something similar.)
What about…There was jubilation; a once mache was now cartwheeling through the pines. The golden flames hissed low so very low brushed lightly by a down pouring of ash and rooftop dirt/snow. A serenation of the bells commenced; starting at the top working its way down to the trunk. As the bells played his right foot pushed through finding a firm grip on the carpet.?

Within moments a the biggest human being James…You really need to rework this sentence.

Say something about Christmas song deafening his ears. Then his heart and mind clouded by images of passing seasonal symbols. Santa approaches. James would dash to get Jane, but he was immobile. His limbs frozen. Father Christmas caressed James’s shoulder(and describe his clothing of course.).

James wanted to shout, still nothing. Father Christmas nearly finished his milk while scanning the room…and to his great surprise there stood/stands James. Then mention something about his blinding smile.?

You don’t need to say…the Santa man…

just say Santa.

An interesting story, a bit more depressing than jolly. Just add more extended details and expressive dialogue between James and Santa, between James and James. I would also say something more about Gran.

“Are you ready for Christmas?”

With a grin on his face, “Yes.” He nods. “Yes, Gran I am so very ready.”

*I rate this 3/5!

[Vorcla]

Charming. I really like this one, Kep. Nicely done. It's fun to see a "Santa myth" story in reverse, like the "Polar Express," where the kid finds out he is real. Nice.

[Keplaz]

Thank you all for the good (and bad) feedback.

Rena: Thanks a million for taking the time to dissect the work, your commentary only makes me better and I am very grateful for your time.

Big Bro Vampire Jimbalaya: Thanks man, I rushed through this one. I got bored with it and just wanted it finished. Don't think I've forgotten about the Phoenix chapter you still haven't written (and you thought editors were bad...)

Vorc: Cheers for reading. Haven't yet watched the Polar Express but heard it was class. I love Santa and I love the corny films, have the Santa Clause on tape (sad I know).

Mr James Cooper: Cool name dude. And no I really haven't been stalking you. Thanks for the comments and for reading.

[creativeminds]

not a bad story. I am sure kids would love to sit down and listen to it being read.

[jback]

I thought it was good. Children would like to read it, but I'm more dark. I would have liked Santa to be crazy or something. I like the flask part, I was thinking Santa was an alcholic..sweet lol! Anyways i thought you could have used a little more visualization but it was good.