Santa

Little Billy loved Christmas more than any other time of the year and it had been so for as long as he could remember. Everyone always seemed so happy, family would visit and the air of excitement often seemed almost tangible, all in preparation for the one big day. And of course there were presents, and Santa always seemed to know exactly what Little Billy wanted and got him his favourite toys every single year.

But Little Billy was growing up as all children do, and along with his slightly more advanced years came a certain degree of perceptiveness, nothing too remarkable or uncanny to suggest some hidden genius-like qualities, but without a doubt Little Billy possessed a clarity of thought far greater than most children his age.

As was traditional, Little Billy’s family were engaged in large amounts of preparation prior to Christmas which involved visiting many shops which, in order to steal customers’ money during this season of giving, were elaborately decorated and often featured someone playing Santa for the delight of the customers’ children.

It was early in December when Little Billy noticed Santa at a store, and was delighted that the season he loved most was so quickly approaching. And several days later Little Billy saw Santa again at a supermarket on the other side of town. Later that same day, Little Billy noticed Santa outside a toy store not too far from his house. And in the weeks that followed Santa seemed to be everywhere. In shopping malls, supermarkets, toy stores, furniture stores, outside churches and collecting donations at street corners. Santa was on TV, on multiple live news stations at the same time. He seemed to be able to change form; he was sometimes fat and jolly, sometimes young and thin, sometimes black, sometimes white. Sometimes Santa looked disgruntled, sometimes he’d ask children to sit on his lap and ask them what toys they wanted.

And it was on a Thursday night while enjoying his dessert at home when the full gravity of the situation fully struck Little Billy. An uncle asked if he’d been a good boy, because if he had Santa would be bringing him presents on Christmas eve. And it occurred to Little Billy that Santa was watching him. Probably even now. Santa was probably paying his parents to spy on him. The uncle was most likely in on it too. Santa was clearly evil; Little Billy had figured that much out for himself. Many lessons at Sunday school taught him that only agents of the devil change form, and Santa was doing it all the time. He was in many places at once, a sign of the beast. He visited millions of homes in a single night, which is more than any human can possibly achieve. And he’d be visiting Little Billy’s home on Christmas. The beast would walk in Little Billy’s living room. And the beast he was watching him. All the time watching.

The room suddenly looked very small. His dessert no longer tasted delicious. He looked at the family he loved around the dinner table and realised the cold, stark truth that evil surrounded him completely, and evil does not love.

And so when at last his bed time came and his parents “lovingly” tucked him in for the night, Little Billy smiled and told them he loved them, but out of a sense of fear and self preservation, not real love. He pulled the blankets tightly around him and closed his eyes, but never slept peacefully again.