Page 6 - KNG 2020 issue 3 Dec 2020 v3

A shimmer of hope w
Short story by Cara Nicholls Y9

I tentatively push open the door up to “You like stars.”, Santa says -a statement, “You told me you weren’t a dream.”, I say
the roof, tightening my dressing gown not a question and it’s true. grasping at straws.
around my waist. My torch dances across
the delicate goose-down snow as a few “I don’t believe you. I mean how do you “Your consciousness, a small part of
flakes float a path down to caress my do it? You deliver to more than 22 million you wanted me to be real. I want to give
shoulders and hair. children an hour, you have flying reindeer. you something.” He passes it to me. It’s
And how do you fit all the presents in one smooth, slightly squishy, vibrant orange
“Hello?”, I call, “Is anybody out here?”. sack?”, I challenge him. and-
There is a shadow that falls across the
snow and the concealed figure emerges. “The interior dimensions transcend the “It’s a tangerine”, I laugh.
I’m torn between the urge to laugh and exterior, that’s how the sack works.”, he “It’s a reminder to have a little more hope
the urge to cry because quite frankly, no. I replies. in humanity.” I smile. A little more hope. I
rub my eyes and pinch myself. Still there. “It’s bigger on the inside. Wow, okay if pocket the tangerine.
“Ho, ho -”, the figure begins. you’re really real, tell me what I want for
Christmas.”, I say crossing my arms. “If this is a dream, am I going to
“No.”, I cut him off mid-jingle, “Tell me I’m remember it when I wake up?”, I ask
dreaming? Please?” “I can’t because-”, Santa continues as resignedly.
I open my mouth to object, “You don’t
“I’m afraid I can’t”, he says, his gruff voice believe me. You did until you were ten. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Merry Christmas
having a sort of soothing smoothness at Why did you stop?” I sigh and rest my and have a little more hope in humanity.”,
the same time. The buckle and buttons on face on my hand. Santa says with a wave as he mounts his
his coat glint with the starlight. His coat sleigh.
is a rich scarlet, his black boots – clearly “Why does anyone? I grew up. I stopped “Merry Christmas Santa.”, I grin at him. He
newly polished- shine dazzlingly. I let out believing in fairy tales and started cracks the reins and the reindeers’ paw
a strangled laugh and run a hand through rationalising the world. I like stars at the ground and begin to trot, then with
my snow-draped hair. The man standing because I liked the idea that they were a woosh of air and the melodic tinkling
on my roof is most definitely Santa Claus, lost loved ones. Of course, I now know of bells, they race past me. I smile and
or at least a madman who thinks he is they’re just burning balls of gas. I grew up, stare up at the sky as they waltz across it.
because after all, Santa ain’t real. see?”, I say softly. I smile despondently. I yawn and rub my eyes. I am so tired and

“Who are you?”, I gasp out. “Why can’t I be real?”, he says. I push off I can feel sleep wrapping me in its’ tender
the rail and sigh and laugh. embrace. . .
“Who do you think I am? My sleigh’s just
over there – no tricks, I promise.”, he “Because you’re a dream, a dream we tell
replies. Glancing warily at him, I move little kids so they have a little more hope I stir hesitantly, shifting in my cocoon of
round the chimney stack and there most in humanity, a little more faith in the world warm blankets. I push myself up onto
definitely is a sleigh. The lead reindeer then they did before.” I watch his face and my elbow and running a hand through
has what looks like a sore, runny nose. he’s not saddened by what I said in the
slightest. my hair, check the time. It’s officially
“Poor thing!”, I exclaim as I fuss it’s head, Christmas morning. Sighing, I swing
“It’s got a cold!” “That’s exactly what I am.” I raise my head my legs to the floor and grope for my
from the ground and smile – feeling a dressing gown, hanging on the end of
“Well of course he has”, Santa-not- shimmer of hope. Santa rests an arm on my bed. As I grab it, there’s a muted thud
actually-Santa replies, “How else is he my shoulder and pulls me in for a hug. I’m and something falls and rolls under the
supposed to have a red nose?” stuck by a sudden thought. bed. Cursing, I slip to my stomach and
reach under my bed. Grasping it, I feel
“This is Rudolph? You’re telling me “If you’re a dream, how are you here?”, I it’s smooth and slightly squishy, I pull out
Rudolph has a red nose because he has a ask. and see it’s a vibrant orange. Scrambling
cold?”, I ask cynically. to my feet, I stare at it. It’s a reminder to
“How did you get here?”, he returns.
“Yes. Gets one every single season have a little more hope in humanity, it’s a
tangerine. Laughing, I chuck it up in the
without fail. It’s a ruddy pain, I’ll tell you “Up the stairs, through the door.”
that.”, he replies. I snort and wander back “Why did you come up here?” air and catching it, remark to no-one in
particular-
across the roof, coming to lean against
the rail. I stare out at the impenetrable “I- ”, I begin but then flounder. Why had I “Merry Christmas.”
blackness somehow dotted with the come up here? My mind was clean like a
brilliant burning of stars. They’re lonely blank slate and I panicked.
and yet so many and far and yet so
close. A beautiful series of natural “You’re dreaming. In a dream, can you
juxtapositions which fight against the ever remember how you got there?”, he
dark. says, giving me a comforting pat.

KNG-2020 6