Thank you to Ivan for today’s inspiration, the phrase “No one believed in Santa any more, so why bother with Christmas?” For the record, I am not trying to influence anyone’s views of Christmas or where its magic lies, I’m just messing about with everyone’s inspirational phrases. This time I’m particularly interested to hear what you think about the ending – does the last paragraph add anything or take away from the previous paragraph?
For your amusement, while I was researching this, I came across this page, which made me laugh out loud: http://urbanlegends.about.com/library/bl_santas_reindeer.htm
If you enjoy this, please consider leaving a suggestion for one of the later days of Christmas in the comments, either here, or on the original “12 Days of Christmas” post from last week. Thanks!
The Magic Of Christmas
“He’s not actually magic, you know, it’s just a dude in a red suit.”
Donna sighed. Her sisters’ doubt saddened her. “If even we don’t believe in him, why bother with Christmas at all?”
Dasher and Blitzen laughed. “It’s money!” Blitzen said, “Money pays the bills, puts food on the table. Without Christmas, how would we get our carrots?”
Donna turned away. She walked to the edge of the wood and watched a dog sled rushing by, the couple on board gazing intently at each other and smiling. It looked like Christmas was still magical for them. She wondered where they were going.
Cupid appeared through the trees to her left and whistled to her. “You’re pensive, sister. Care to join me for a nip of brandy? It is Christmas, after all!”
“Is that what Christmas is about? Alcohol?”
“No, but it’s a start. Got to do something to drown out the children’s squeals!”
“But they’re happy squeals,” said Donna.
“Happy. But loud.”
Donna blinked away a tear and raced out of the forest, away from the rest of the reindeer. She couldn’t face their cynicism any longer – she believed there was magic in Christmas somewhere and she wanted to find it. She raced along the sled-tracks, following the couple – the only hint of magic she had seen tonight. The tracks led to a tiny white church, glowing from inside with a warm light in the dark winter’s night.
Donna crept up the steps towards the cracked-open door. The scent wafting out was sweet and bitter at the same time, the air thick, bright and warm. Suddenly, the step creaked under her hoof. She paused and held her breath. She could hear singing inside, a song about choirs of angels; then a hand touched her flank and she turned to see a small angel with a wonky halo beside her.
“Hello,” said the angel, “I’m Jocelyn. Come in, Mary and Joseph have just arrived at the stable.”
Donna followed the girl down the aisle towards the altar, which was glowing with candles lit all around. People turned and stared at her, but she felt safe and loved. When they reached the front of the church, she looked up and saw a painting of Santa Claus, his long white beard flowing over white robes not red ones, but it was the man himself, of that she was certain. And here were more than a hundred people standing together and singing to him. He was the father of their Christmas, and it was magical.
When the singing finished, children came forward and petted her. She felt their hands on her flanks and saw the magic in their eyes. Here, at last, was the magic of Christmas.