Santa Claus Stories Novels & Stories

—Ricardo was startled by his father's statement and must have understood that I had premeditated that night. ― I had said that I regretted dying without having the joy of seeing a grandchild born and Manuela revealed that she dreamed of having a child with Ricardo. That's why we made our requests to the Universe and it sent us more than two miracles, but three. My health and my two grandchildren. And now I want to make a toast to my Christmas miracles. Everyone raised their glasses. Alice and I had the fruit juice, but it had the same meaning as the champagne they all drank. Later, after the distribution of gifts, I asked Ric if he was disappointed in me and he replied:

Reaching out, she gave one of the girl’s pigtails a tug. “I promise, there will be lots of trees when we get into town. But remember, we’re getting a little one this year, okay?” Because of the Grinch and his aversion to all things festive. “I know! It’s like a fairy tree because it’s tiny and can go on a table to put in our room because Kaleb doesn’t like Christmas.” Her head tipped to one side. “How come he doesn’t, Mommy? Everybody likes presents. And Santa… And the reindeers, and Christmas trees filled with lights and all the merry stuff… How come, Mommy?”

She blinked her eyes expectantly at her last remark. I’d been fed captivating stories about the Santa Claus Ball since I was a baby. It was where my mother and father met twenty-four years ago, after all. But she’d painted so many beautiful scenes in my mind, magical scenes really, of the silver and gold shining off the Christmas garland, the tantalizing smell of hot toddy and pie. She had spoken about how the dazzling shine of the multi-color Christmas lights had felt so alluring that she was sure she was in a dream. And when my dad tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to dance, she’d been entranced by the low tenor of his voice and the gentle way he’d led her in the dance. When they to

He said as he clapped his hands, looking at his mother's face as she cleared her throat. "It was a beautiful December day" She began, "with clear blue sky and snow-covered treetops. Christmas was in the air but up in Santa’s lodge, all was quiet. The usual hustle and bustle of preparing Christmas presents had gone for Santa had fallen ill. “Oh dear, what will the children say when they don’t receive presents this year,” Santa wondered sadly as he lay on his bed.

Forced to question things they had known their entire lives. “What about Christmas trees or Easter? All of these things are based on something that happened a long time ago. Those stories have evolved, and we just accept them for what they are because that’s what we’ve been programmed to do. While we know Santa isn’t real, for many of us, our childhoods were filled with stories about Santa and many of us still believe in Christmas miracles. This is because we have our own version of mythology. It’s not nearly as cool as the Greek version, but it’s essentially the same thing.”

Larissa's viewpoint Starliss and Odette were at it again. Today, Odette decided that the Easter bunny was the mother of Santa Claus and the father was the tooth fairy. Santa hatched from an egg on Easter day, and on December 25th, he created Christmas to win the heart of Dracula's firstborn. Yes, it's ridiculous, but she's Odette.

All I want is something, anything that will act like a distraction, anything that will shield me from those men. Looking back, I cursed under my breath when I noticed them chasing after me. “What the fuck is their deal?” Why are they acting as if I stole their Christmas present? I cringed at the word Christmas. Let’s just say I have the worst experience when it comes to Christmas. Growing up, I used to think that Santa Claus is actually real, that he actually dropped gifts every Christmas Eve. Imagine the disappointment of a seven years old when she found Santa Claus bleeding out on their porch, only that it wasn’t actually Santa, but my father Mr. Fordd Smith.

Nox asked, "why are you worried about Santa?" She pointed out the large windows. "Because the man on TV said the snow is coming. He said lots and lots. He said no driving. What about Santa?" "Child," Jane said, "I told you, Santa flies a sleigh. Snow's a Christmas miracle." I leaned closer. "Jane's right." I glanced at her smiling brown eyes, winked, and looked back to my daughter. "She always is. Santa's sleigh flies better in snow."

How far can the bastard have gone? Then, I see him again, tall against the crowd. He emerges from the next door along from Antonio's, a small hair-salon-cum-barber-shop. Shoving something into his pocket, he turns my way... The clothing store? It appears Santa Claus is doing his rounds, collecting his gifts from all the little boys and girls on his list, regardless of whether they're naughty or nice. Hastily, I move on, cross the street to merge with the hubbub of people, then double-back on myself to wait, watching the store entrance as he enters, strolling in as though he owns the fucking place.

"What would you like to do when we arrive? It won't be too long now." She brightens, pearly teeth showing. "I've no idea. I don't know anything about Helsinki.... or Finland for that matter." "Nothing at all?" "Well, Santa lives in Lapland, doesn't he?" she grins. "So they say. And they celebrate him in the city. You'll see." I check my watch. "Come on. There's something I want you to see." "Where are we going?" "Back to the cabin." "But we'll be docking soon?"