Santa Was

Older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die just like any other.

The dwarfish natives of the Arctic North did not speak his language, for they conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not labouring in their factories.

Once every year, the dwarves punish this chubby old man, sobbing and protesting, into an Endless night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, without making the slightest sound and leave one of the dwarves’ invisible gifts by their bedside.

The children slept, frozen in time unaware of the chubby old man dressed in red.

He envied the prisoners of men, for his punishment was far greater.

Ho.

Ho.

Ho.

And off he went to another, for he was Santa, the slave of the Artic North.

So till my next post ya, its bye from Ganz.

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