Charlie The Santa Clause Novels & Stories

This had happened before. Panic surged through me. I raised my hand and slapped myself, the sharp sting confirming I was awake. “What’s today’s date?” I demanded. Charlotte blinked, taken aback. “December 25th, dear. Christmas Day.” I blinked, my pulse racing. My eyes drifted toward the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Behind the twinkling lights and ornaments, someone stood. Dressed in a red Santa Claus suit, complete with the hat and a thick white beard, watching me silently.

Back in the hospice ward, Noelle opened her eyes weakly. She looked around and said, "Daddy, Mommy promised me she'd dress up as Santarina and bring me presents… Isn't that right?" I held her hand tightly, forcing back my grief. "Yes. Mommy will come as Santarina." I lowered my head helplessly and checked my phone again, but there was still no response from Ivana. Then, I opened Instagram and saw Charles' newest post. He wrote, "Bubbles is missing. I feel like I can't breathe… Bubbles, where are you?"

"Val Holiday is almost squeaky clean. He had two parking tickets in the last five years. Otherwise, he's twenty-eight, never married and almost rich. He has a Master's from Duke in computer science, magna cum laude. His family owns the Holiday card company. Oh, and he's fucking gorgeous." "Somehow I doubt Charlie told you that part." Marla chuckled and took a long drink of sweet tea. "So, how is he in bed?" "Un-freaking-believable." Just the memory of Val in the shower this morning had Cora's blood heating. "Mind-blowing. Heart-stopping. Addictive. I can't even believe I'm doing this, but I want to go on this trip with him more than I've wanted anything in years. So, are you going to be home

“Charlie, your mother died because of you” Honestly I did not know what to say, it felt as if my jaw had hit the ground “No, it was a drunk driver, my father told me so” “It was your gifts” Frowning at him “I don’t, well I didn’t have powers then” Max sits calmly “Charlie, you have had your gift since you were a child” I search his eyes, why would he be saying this, it didn’t make sense. “My father got to you didn’t he, spun you some lie”, he shakes his head at me

Christmas felt more like a season for memories I’d rather forget. As I locked my car and walked past him, Mr. Jones cocked his head. "Not taking any time off for the holiday this year again, Miss Samantha? Always working, you are." I shook my head, pulling my scarf tighter. "Not my thing, Mr. Jones. Just another day as far as I’m concerned." “Well…” He looked at me with a sympathetic smile. “I always tell my kids, Christmas comes with its own miracles. Who knows? Maybe this year’s your lucky one.”

As if he could read her mind, he answered her silent questions at once… "I picked them up from the basement parking, right after you threw them out from your car. I just happened to be there at that time. I also chose to make these my Christmas angels this year. So, no matter what you decide regarding us, I'm still taking care of MY KIDS for this holiday season. That means they'll be expecting more presents from me and that's because of these angels," he explained with his sweet, charming smile in full force. And once again, she melted…

I stepped away to answer. “How is Gloria?” Her voice was tired. Poor woman. She’d experienced the episode too. She must have been terrified. I told her everything, the helicopter, Stanford, the doctors’ cautious optimism. She listened, making soft sounds of sympathy. “I’m so sorry you won’t be here for Christmas,” she said. “But my thoughts and prayers are with all of you. Tell Gloria we love her.” “I will. Thank you, Mrs. Hartley.” When I returned to the window, Dante was the only one there. He turned to face me, his expression different now. Hesitant.

Finally, the car stopped at a park. With Christmas trees and lights all over the place. So many fun activities are going on. It was snowing. I came down and started jumping, and the loud Christmas music made it more fun. “Merry Christmas!” I screamed. Did he just smile? Zayne was watching me play around. I dragged him into the circle and made him jump with me. This felt so good. “Here, have this jacket. It is very cold.” He removed his jacket and gave it to me, but I was finding it difficult to put it on because of the gloves on my hands.

A little boy with brown hair, and brown eye stomped up the stairs, put his hands on his hips, and glared at Joe. “Hello Carlton. Merry Christmas!” Joe said enthusiastically. “You’re not Santa!” Carlton snapped. “I’m not?” “No!” “Then who am I?” “I don’t know, but there is no Santa! Santa isn’t real!” “Who told you that?” “My big brother! He told me I was a big baby if I still believed in Santa.” “I see. Can I ask you a question Carlton?” “Ye….yes.” “Do you, in your heart, believe Santa is real?”

' song on repeat in my brain. Van chose Arthur Christmas. Val chose How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Ricky chose Home Alone 2, one of his favorite movies. Sara chose Christmas Chronicles on Netflix. I chose The Santa Clause. Wilder and Wyatt passed on picking movies, because it was late and they wanted Grandpa to have a turn. He pulls out his movie from his pocket, handing the DVD to Wyatt. Grandpa Mick has Jacks now, holding him close and I love the sight. I pull my phone out and take a picture.