"Mama said there ain't gonna be any Xmas this year." little Frank told Susie as they played building blocks on the matted play mat.
"Why'd she say that." Little Susie replied without raising a brow from the mount she was mounting.
"Well, she said Santa's got a cold. He wouldn't be able to come around." Frank said with a resigned shrug of resignation.
"Huh? How's that even possible." Susie retorted, her attention fully at attention.
There they sat; lost in each other's eyes, Frank without a reply, the same question on both their minds.
Truly to mother's word, Santa didn't come around. The empty space under the Christmas tree told the whole story. Hanging heads on stooping bodies that littered the streets in walkway town, empty purses and cold toast turkeys, were all that came for
Christmas for Susie.
Somewhere in the North Pole, a group of little green figures with pointy hats and pointy shoes, and pointy noses and pointy ears were all gathered around a fireplace, huddling together for warmth and comfort. There was Santa, sitting at the centre, with blankets around him and a steaming coffee mug in hand.
"Ho! ho! ho! Christmas is ruined." He said and with a final sip from his cup, he ran and jumped into the flames, just to get warmer he claimed. And he stayed there a while, till all that was left was the black of his mug.
YOU ARE READING
The Coagulum
Short Story"We all left the scene of the crime, committed by death, with stony faces. Every man glancing at another, before withdrawing into our individual abode of thoughts to begin a service of silence, probably for the dead man. The realization that the man...
