The 12 Tales of Christmas

12 December - Cold December Night

12 December – Write a story involving at least one Christmas carol.

Dear readers,

I know 'Cold December Night' by Michael Buble isn't really a Christmas carol, but please roll with it. It might help if you listened to it while reading it, but then again it might not. So please, enjoy this fluff! These are one-shots after my stories Canarim's Castaway and Mystical Mission, so if you don't like spoilers, just CLICK AWAY. 

***IF YOU DIDN'T GET IT NOW, CLICK AWAY!!! SPOILER ALERT!!!***

~Imara

Nicolai de Tirali brushed up his hair, blacker than ink on ebony, and stared at his own nervous blue eyes in the mirror. He smiled at his reflection, his eyes turning green as his nervousness turned to joy. Tonight he would take the jump.

His crisp long-sleeved white shirt tucked into black pants, held up by black suspenders. A red bowtie cinched his collar, and he doffed his black top hat ringed with a red band at his reflection as he tried to give himself a pep talk. "Well, Mr. Nick, sir, I'd say you look very dashing tonight. So... go ahead and do it."

He slipped out of his bathroom, a very appropriate song coming to mind. He chuckled as Roy Walker, orphan, hopped up to him and tugged the hat off his head.

Stockings are hung with care
the children sleep with one eye open
now there's more than toys at stake
'Cause I'm older now but not done hoping

Nick looked around and smiled. His orphans had gathered around the old-fashioned fireplace in his living room. Roy Walker, Anna Phillips, Charmont 'Char' Askar, Charlotte 'Charlie' Garcia, Riley Saunders, David Linton, Ailara Bastone, and the Westros twins, Margarita or Maggie for short, and her sister Racquel Carmina, who liked to be called RC.

Each one had hung his or her stocking in front of the mantel, crowding the red brick with red and green velvet. Each one's stocking had a painstakingly but childishly stitched name on it in gold or silver or even electric blue.

Nick's heart filled as he looked at the Christmas tree near the entrance. The lights were hung, and a stepladder evidenced the children's efforts.

"Nicky!" Anna cried, tugging on his sleeve, begging for a piggyback ride. He only obliged so far as to pick her up and balance the five-year-old on his arm. It was like a dam broke as his orphans flooded him with hugs and wet kisses.

"I've been away for a long time, kids, but I'll be here as long as you need me," he said, returning the embraces and the kisses. It would've looked very queer to any stranger to the Alacazi neighborhood: a tall eighteen-year-old boy surrounded by ten small children all younger than twelve, all with such diverse hair and skin colors as to escape any suspicion as his siblings.

But for Nick, his home would always be with these children, with the innocent hearts given to him in the filial love of a childish spirit. Nick couldn't think of spending his Christmas anywhere but the old Tali house with his orphans.

"Kids, kids, I need to get to the party right now, as in now right now," he complained, as Roy attached himself to his pant leg and refused to let go.

As expected, a moan of disappointment went up.

"Come on, kids, I'm not going away forever," he laughed.

"Okay, Nicky," Maggie said sweetly, her face dimpling as she smiled. "Go!"

"Have fun?" Char tried out the sentence before repeating it enthusiastically. "Have fun!"

"Thanks, Char, thanks, kids. Now, off to bed with you. It's almost eight! Besides, I'm pretty sure I can take enough time to kiss you all goodnight if you get to bed now." He emphasized the now, and laughed as the living room was immediately vacated in favor of the large bedroom.