"Christopher, it's time. We need you to come home."
With that sentence, made by his mother's tinkling voice, the twenty-some year old man's whole life changed. Some would say for the worse, but most would say for the better. He closed up his office, and headed 'home'. Not the house he lived in, but where he came from.
The artic air gusted around him, causing Christopher to pull his scarf up around his mouth. He got his suitcases out of the backseat, and with his head down, he made off for the house.
"Where's Dad? How bad is he?"
"Bad?" Ask a worker.
"Yes! Mother called, and said they needed me home. What's happened?" Christopher shrugged out of his coat and tucked his gloves in the pockets.
"Um.. Let me go get you mother."
Christopher's mind reeled. It must be worse than he thought. Standing at the entrance to the workshop, he watched everyone scurry around. It was Tuesday, and Christmas Eve was Friday. They had a lot to prepare for. He rubbed his hands together, hoping the friction would warm them up. He'd forgotten how cold it was here.
"Christopher, darling, I didn't think you would get here so quick!" His mother spoke as she rounded the corner.
"I left the minute we hung up. What's wrong with Dad?"
Her snow white hair was pulled into a bun, and little tendrils had escaped around her face. Her glasses had red frames, and she was wearing red slacks and a red sweater, with a white apron over it. She was dusted with flour. She must have been baking. Christopher couldn't remember his mother ever not looking like she did today. She was ageless.
"Well, Christopher, why don't you come in and get settled, hmm? Then I'll get you some hot cocoa, and we'll all sit down for a nice chat." Her lips curved into a smile, but Christopher read something behind her eyes.
"Oh no. He's not dead, is he? And he's not even sick. Is he." Christopher felt his heartbeat in his ears. It had been a trick.
"No, dear, of course he's not dead. He's not sick either really, he's just tired. He needs a break."
"He works one day a year! How can he need a break?!"
"Oh pooh, you know it takes more than a day. Don't you think you could help out, just once?" His mother's eyes pleaded with him to be cooperative.
He shoved a hand through his longish brown hair. It was a motion borne of frustration.
Suddenly the pleading eyes turned stony. She planted her hands on her hips and widened her stance.
"Listen here, Mister Important. We did the best we could to give you a normal life. We didn't even live here while you were in school! We always took 'vacation' right before Christmas so your father could get things finished up. You lived a good life, and never wanted for anything, except maybe to be more normal. But we did the best we could with what we had to work with. Now you, sir, are going to march yourself right upstairs and listen to what your father has to say!" By the end of her tirade, one finger was out, shaking at him.
Christopher managed a laugh. His sweet mother, standing there with flour on her face, scolding him.
"All right, all right. I'll go talk to him. I'm sorry I'm ungrateful."
Christopher stepped in front of his mother and pulled her hands away from her hips, holding them tightly in his own.
"I'm sorry I got you all worked up."
"It's all right. I just had to whip ya back into shape." She smiled and her eyes twinkled.
Christopher dropped her hands and went to talk to the big man.
~*~10 years later~*~
"Stupid chimneys." Chris straightened and looked around him.
The house was the same as many, only this one didn't have a lot of decorations. He quickly placed the presents under the tree, and with a wink, he was back on the roof. It was the same at every house. Some were nicer than others, some had dogs, some had kids camped out in the living room.
The reason no one had ever seen Santa was because the minute he landed, it was almost as if a spell was cast on the house, keeping the occupants deep asleep. The minute the reindeer hooves left the roof, the spell was broken, and only then did people sometimes hear a noise.
Chris was secretly entranced by all the magic that did happen at Christmas time. He's grown up with it so he was used to it, and it lost some of it's appeal since he knew how the magic worked. No matter. He wasn't a child anymore- he was the new Santa, and had been for ten years.
The only difference was, he refused to get pudgy, and he had a gym built onto the house. His hair was still dark- he told his father in no uncertain terms he didn't want white hair and a beard before his time. It didn't really matter, since no one would ever see him anyway. Santa had tried to change his mind for months, since it wasn't 'in the spirit of things', but Chris held firm. Finally, Santa had given up all together.
As the times changed and the populations grew, each country ended up with their own Santa. Chris' father was the original, and he chose a man from each continent to do his job. They all came for a year long course on how to be Santa. That had worked out very well, and additional workshops were added to the original. Each Christmas eve, all the Santa's showed up, the workers in the workshops loaded the sleighs, and off they went.
The North Pole was a well oiled machine. Everyone knew their job, and they did it well. And every year without fail, they had a successful Christmas. Chris was grateful that everyone was so competent, because the first couple years were rough for him. But, all that was behind him now, and he was even a little more efficient than his father had been, but he figured it was because he weighed seventy pounds less than his dad.
At this point, he had a couple hours to go until dawn lightened the sky, and he picked up his pace. Chris was in the home stretch- he just had to finish up the houses on the street he was currently on. Ironically enough, he was in the neighborhood he used to live in. Chris imagined it created quite a stir when he all but disappeared, but that was years ago. He doubted anyone remembered him now.
Finally, he came to the last house. He remembered the woman that had lived here years ago, but didn't imagine she would still be there. As he climbed from the sleigh, he made quick work of going down the chimney. There were only a few packages that went here, so he wasn't burdened with a huge sack.
His feet struck the floor with a muffled thump, and he quickly stepped to the right and put the presents under the tree. With a proud smile on his face- he had finished an hour earlier than the year before- he folded up the bag and turned around.
A woman stood in the archway of the living room, a cup of coffee in one hand and a donut in the other. One bite was missing from the pastry, and her mouth was hanging open. Suddenly, she sprang into action.
"You freak show! Who the hell are you? I am calling the cops." She set her coffee down and ran for her cell phone.
Chris was behind her almost before she turned around. He caught her around the waist with one arm. She screamed.
Chris rolled his eyes and tried to calm her.
"I'm Santa. Please, Miss, calm down."
"Santa?" She scoffed. Her breath smelled of glazed sugar. Delectable.
"Yes. Please, don't call the cops. You'll only make yourself look silly. I can disappear in a wink, literally. So please, don't."
The woman stopped struggling to get out of his hold. She was obviously wrestling with her good sense, and wasn't coming to a conclusion very quickly
Finally, she turned slowly, and Chris released her. He wasn't sure why he went after her- protocol called for leaving immediately, yet here he stood.
