By James Gonda.
It was the week before Christmas and the North Pole was a blizzard of activity. Santa’s workshop was a cacophony of clanking and clattering, buzzing, beeping, humming, and hissing. Santa and Mrs. Claus were making their final preparations for the big night: checking the weather, planning Santa’s route, and sorting stocking stuffers with their army of elves.
During the cheerful chaos, Mrs. Claus found herself in a crisis—she had misplaced Santa’s naughty and nice list. As she searched the nooks and crannies of their home and office, panic set in. She could not find the list anywhere. Mrs. Claus, known for her meticulous organization, felt distressed. She had kept the list safe for centuries; now in those crucial days before Christmas, it had vanished.
Santa, always jovial, reassured his missus they would find the list together. They began their quest by retracing Mrs. Claus’ steps. The workshop, the kitchen, the factory—all the usual places. Yet, the list remained unfound. As they pondered their next move, an elf suggested seeking guidance from Frosty the Snowman—he had a reputation for curating information about the North Pole.
Trudging through the snow, Santa and Mrs. Claus stumbled upon the pudgy snowman with a top hat and carrot nose. With great interest Frosty listened to their plight of the missing list. His coal eyes gleamed with concern. “I haven’t seen your list but heard rumors of a mischievous penguin who might know something.” He motioned toward the Iceberg Isle.
With renewed hope, Santa and Mrs. Claus set off for the island’s icy shores. There, they encountered Pip, a penguin with a penchant for pranks. Pip confessed he had seen the list but claimed the wind had “carried it away.”
Santa and Mrs. Claus decided to enlist the little bird’s help. Together, they embarked on a journey, pursuing the list through a snowy landscape, across a frozen lake, and into a candy cane forest where trees sparkled with red and white delights.
Their first stop unfolded in a clearing with fairy lights. Jingles, a reindeer, pranced into view, his fur aglow with a shimmer. With a flourish, he executed flips and spins. The air crackled with energy as he landed with grace. “Santa! Mrs. Claus! And Pip! What a surprise! Welcome to my Winter Circus!” His hooves tapped out a festive rhythm. “Word travels fast in these parts—I heard about your elusive list.” Santa chuckled. “Oh yes, thank you, Jingles! We’ve always admired your hoof work. Any help is much appreciated.”
Jingles winked and, with a twirl, uncovered a secret hollow under the snow. It revealed an array of glittering snowflakes, each etched with the names of children around the world. This information might help Santa remember who was naughty and who was nice. Meanwhile, Pip, unable to forego a little fun, flopped onto the ground and created a snow angel. Laughter echoed through the clearing. “Jingles, you’ve given us some relief. Thank you,” Mrs. Claus said.
As they continued their search, the trio reached the edge of a frozen lake. Bumble, a polar bear, awaited them. His fur glistened like ice. “Well, well, if it isn’t the Claus crew! What brings you to my chilly domain?”
Mrs. Claus explained their quest. The giant white bear rubbed his paws together, contemplating. “A missing list, you say? Well, Bumble’s got connections with squalls and gales. Sometimes they share their secrets.” With a grand gesture, he summoned the winds; they swirled around with snippets of conversations. The air teased Santa’s beard and played with the edges of Mrs. Claus’ shawl.
“The list, my friends, is on an adventure of its own,” the bear revealed. “Follow the whispers, and you’ll find it.”
They thanked Bumble and ventured forth. The scent of warm gingerbread teased their noses. It led them to a village of gingerbread people. The aroma of baked cookies filled the air; the town square was a sweet display of icing-adorned houses. Mr. Gingersnap, a plump gingerbread man, welcomed them with a broad smile. “Santa, Mrs. Claus, and little Pip! You look like you could use a break. How ‘bout some hot cocoa and gingerbread cookies?”
The warmth of hospitality enveloped them as they sat around a cozy fire. They sipped hot chocolate and nibbled on cookies shaped like Christmas trees. As the night unfolded, a gust of wind delivered a brass key. Mr. Gingersnap snatched the key and handed it to Santa. “This key opens the door to the heart of the forest. Your list awaits there.”
The three ventured deeper into the woods. Snow crunched beneath their boots. The forest grew denser; trees towered overhead like sentinels guarding a secret. Following the whispers of the wind—per Bumble’s instructions—they came upon a clearing bathed in a soft glow. In the center stood an ancient, ornate door, adorned with intricate patterns. Santa inserted the golden key. The door creaked open and revealed a room resplendent with thousands of twinkling stars. In the center was the missing list, suspended in mid-air, surrounded by an aura. A sense of celebration radiated from the space, as if the list itself delighted in being found.
Mrs. Claus approached the list, her eyes filled with wonder. The names of children glittered like constellations. But before they could rejoice, a figure emerged from the shadows—a being arrayed in an iridescent cloak, resembling the hues of peacock feathers. The being smiled. “Congratulations, dear Claus family, and Pip. You’ve passed the final test.”
Mrs. Claus looked at her husband, puzzled. “Who is this, Papa?”
Santa chuckled. “This is the Guardian of Christmas Magic.”
“You know this . . . individual?”
“We go back to the beginning.”
The being spoke: “You’ve undertaken a journey, met characters, faced challenges—”
“The list was missing! We were worried!” Mrs. Claus inserted.
The Guardian nodded. “Indeed, such events reveal the essence of Christmas. The joy, the laughter, the warmth, and the spirit of giving were all present in your hearts, even when the list seemed lost.” And with those words, the being eased into an adjacent room. The list floated down into Mrs. Claus’ hands.
And so, on Christmas Eve, as Santa soared through the sky, the Northern Lights shimmered even brighter, personifying the holiday bliss the Clauses—and Pip—had rediscovered on their search.