Long before humanity evolved to our present grandeur, long before the continents took their present shapes, long before the reindeer forgot how to fly, Santas teemed upon the icecaps, every spring migrating north, every fall migrating south. Their sleighs chased the sun so these Santas never knew darkness.
One year, a plague afflicted the Santas' camp. Phlegm spewed from tents like green lava, slowing until it froze.
One boy prayed to the goat-god for savior from this mortal disease. The incubus cursed him with eternity.
Every Christmas, the sole remaining Santa migrates to every human household to ease his loneliness.
Aww. Poor lonely Santa!
ReplyDeleteI wonder why he only shows up on that day if he's lonely. Surely an immortal gift-giver could be popular.
ReplyDeleteOh Aidan this started so lovely and ended so sad, poor Santa, still he gets all those cookies and sherries left out for him...
ReplyDeleteHave a lovely Christmas Aidan, it's been a pleasure getting to know you this year. ^__^
After reading this I decided to leave an extra glass of sherry for him this year in the hope it will give him that extra bit of cheer. :)
ReplyDeleteA fascinating twist on the Santa story. Leaving out sherry for Santa? Hm. On this side of the pond, it's always milk & cookies. Another tradition that should be adopted here, I say…
ReplyDelete@Sonia, I think his loneliness is why he cares so much why we're naughty or nice.
ReplyDelete@John, I'll have to leave him the suggestion next year when he comes to visit.
@Helen, Thank-you. You bring a light-hearted sense of wonder with your sparkling stars. We all have the opportunity to migrate across the world every day these days.
@Steve, I'm sure Santa approved!
@FAR, I agree in picking and choosing traditions.