Is That You Santa Claus Novels & Stories

There is white fur around all hems and to top it all of a Christmas hat and some red lipstick and mascara then I'm done. A knock comes at the door as I place my earrings on, "come in!" Mr Clause struts in with all his glory. Instead of buttoning up his shirt he left it open allowing me to admire his toned torso and tattoos, the way his muscles ripple with each breath and move has me thinking of things no Mrs Clause should. "Is Santa allowed to be naughty on Christmas night?" He asks, I giggle and walk up to him. "So long as the workshop is still buzzing with life, Mrs Clause cannot allow, unfortunately," I sigh slipping my hands under the cloth over his shoulders.

Is You "So, since Christmas is about sharing of gifts and all, and we are spending the Christmas together, what do you want for Christmas?" She asked when they had finally finished their food and their bellies were full. "I think I have already gotten my own Christmas present," Tanner said and Katrina looked at him weirdly, they had been together since Christmas Eve and she was pretty sure that Santa did not sneak into the house in the middle of the night and a plant a gift for Tanner.

Neo turned to me and gave me a pitiful look. "Run while you have the chance. I give you a month, and their madness will forever be imprinted in your head. Just take me for example," "I'm pretty sure you are the crazy one, Mr. We wash cars with bleach, not detergent," Starliss scoffed. The faint tint that appeared on his face later told a hidden, embarrassing story. "Shut up." He murmured. "Ooh, yes! Zayne, tell me. Do you agree the Easter bunny is the mother of Santa and bore him to the tooth fairy? And do you also agree that Christmas is to show his love for his wife, Frankie?"

I whirl a motion, I reached downstairs and I sat in the farthest corner of the room and ordered my food. When my order was served I called Adrian. “Hello Darling,” He purred. “Shut up, just tell me why your uncle is singing the song that we are an item.” I hissed on the phone. I was greeted with silence and then a burst of booming laughter. “Stop, and tell me what new fresh hell is this?” I asked. My blood boiled listening to him laughing at my misery. “Ah, I didn’t want you to find it like this,” he started.

Little surprise there. I picked a few things, then picked some few things, then picked some more, trying to remember all it was that Summer had asked me to get. By the time I was done picking, I had filled my trolley with excessive junk. Some of the customers gave me side look. I could hear a little girl even whisper to her parent “is he Santa Claus? So this is where Santa gets his stuff in preparation for Christmas,” I wondered what that meant.

“But I think Santa is coming back from his break now.” “Wanna go meet Santa?” I ask her, and she claps her hands, giggling with delight, even though she doesn’t quite grasp the concept yet. As we approach, there he is… our local celebrity, movie star, and superhero… and my adoring husband. You wouldn’t recognize him if you didn’t know, with his Santa suit and fluffy white beard. He even sports a fake belly under the jacket, but despite that, he remains the most handsome Santa I’ve ever seen. Fortunately, the kids don’t notice; they only see Santa.

Eighteen Years Ago - Age Eight I was entirely too old to believe in this sort of thing. Even all the kids at school in my class were saying there was no such thing as Santa Claus. How could a guy only come out once a year, on a flying sleigh, and give gifts to every kid in the world? Come on! Though I didn't tell anyone, not even Daddy, I wrote a letter to Santa one last time, just in case. I had even talked Daddy into taking me to the Concord Mall to see him. Because if Santa was real, he may be my only hope.

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?"

He was hiding something tonight. I could feel it. “What do you want for Christmas?” he asked suddenly. I blinked. “What?” “If you could have anything.” The question caught me off guard. I should’ve said something normal. A vacation. A better apartment. Freedom from this double life. Instead the words slipped out before I could stop them. “I want Santa to personally pay me a visit.” Silence filled the room. Then his laugh came through the speakers low and dark enough to make my stomach flip. “So needy tonight.”

The phone rang again. "What the hell?" I snapped in exasperation. There was a deep chuckle. "Hello too, Tate." I blinked. "Ollie?" "No, I'm Santa Claus and I wanted to ask what you would like for Christmas," he said amused. I stepped forward on the sidewalk. "Very funny," I blurted out. But despite my best efforts, the corners of my mouth twitched a little at the thought of Ollie in a Santa suit. "Sure, I'm a natural talent. So where are you?" he demanded an answer.