Holiday Stories and Poems

Santa Daddy

They took her in, but they could never replace her daddy.



A Writer’s Cramp prompt: (24 hours/1,000 words or less)

Write a short story or poem about a Christmas your character will never forget!!!

Santa Daddy

I heard explosions and screams, but I couldn’t see. Daddy had put me in the closet, made me promise to stay there ‘til he came back. The closet grew hot. I was tempted to open the door, to peek out, but Daddy had told me not to.

So, I waited, ignored my stomach pains, even peed in the corner --repeatedly until the closet stank. I slept doubled over, my feet curled underneath me so that each time I woke, I endured pins and needles.

I thought about food – hamburgers, pancakes. Sometimes I pictured apples, the red delicious kind. Licorice, black licorice, which would turn my teeth into gummy dark horrors, as Daddy put it.

But then I began to pant over pitchers of milk, fruit juice, even water. My throat became parched so badly not even saliva soothed its ache. Thirst is what finally drove me to open the closet door.

When I did, when I finally bucked my daddy’s order, I heard nothing -- no explosions, no screams, no voices.

I peeked around the slat of the door’s opening, but when no one yelled at me, when Daddy didn’t order me to go back inside, I sneaked out.

The sun, an evil sun – orangish and gloomy -- shone down at me. The house’s roof was gone -- most of the house had gone, too. No more kitchen. No food. No water.

Only pieces of the house remained -- the hall with its bone-like structure and the closet where I’d hid. Its door, once opened, creaked, then, as I watched, fell off its hinges, crashed.

I walked down the outer brick steps of the house, out, onto the sidewalk. Everything around had turned to rubble. Only a few chimneys stood. All else was debris and ashes.

The sidewalk turned into an obstacle course of fallen bricks, over-turned cars, and things I didn’t want to stop to identify. The Kazazzians found me walking along, clutching a one-eyed teddy bear. I was crying and calling out for my daddy.

Of course, I didn’t know they were friendly. When a very tall moss-green creature suddenly appeared before me, I let out a shriek, turned to run, but three more of the creatures stood behind me. One scooped me up in his multiple arms and carried me back to their ship.

The Kazazzians hadn’t caused the war, didn’t even know about it until they arrived. But they were too late to save any other humans. Only I was still alive when they landed.

They nursed me, treated me for the sickness that would have taken my life. Then they took me back with them to Kazazz.

They say I am lucky, lucky to have survived. They raised me, treated me well, gave me what I asked for, except human company. But I know that wasn’t their fault. They can’t give me what no longer exists.

*******

My hair is long now. I’ve grown tall, healthy, and adapted to Kazazz-- mostly.

But it’s snowing again. That always makes me sad because then I recall Christmas.

Christmas is when I miss my daddy the most. He was my Santa Claus. His white beard sparkled in the light. His belly bounced when he laughed. He brought me gifts on Christmas, but most important of all, he hugged me, kissed my nose, then said he loved me.


******


Nunkah has come to tuck me into bed. I turn away so he doesn’t see my tears.

“Santa Claus?” he asks, not fooled at all.

I nod, close my eyes, pretend I don’t want to discuss Christmas again.

Nunkah raises the bed into the protective rafters. I’m glad. He can’t hear my sobs up there, even though I’m positive he’ll still be aware. Nunkah, like all Kazazzians, seems to know everything.

When I wake in the morning, Nunkah lowers me to the floor. I stretch, sit up, bid him fair morning.

“Merry Christmas,” he says instead.

I suppose my eyes grow wide. He twitters his high-pitched atonal song -- the Kazazzian laugh.

I’m just about to ask what he means by saying that when the outer doors open and thirteen Kazazzians push themselves inside.

“Present,” Catorrie says.

“Present. Yes. Yes. Christmas,” the others chant.

And then I see what they’ve hidden from me. A robot, but not like any robot I’ve seen on Kazazz. They’ve made me a Santa robot, a robot that looks like my daddy.

I know it’s not human, yet memories surge me forward. I run to it, throw myself into its arms. The robot scoops me close, hugs me, kisses my nose.

Tears run down my face, but not sad tears. I smile, laugh, cry out, “Thank you.”

I am far from home, alone, but not alone, for I have a family, the Kazazzians. And now I have my daddy back, my Santa daddy.

I hug each Kazazzian. “This is the best Christmas present ever.”

Fourteen tall moss-green people enclose me in their multiple arms, then pass me from alien to alien. I kiss their cheeks, listen to their happy gargles. After we celebrate with special pookpah snacks and fizpur drinks, they all slip away, leaving me alone with my Santa daddy.

The robot has white hair that sparkles, a big belly, and a laugh just like Daddy had. I order it to sit, then crawl into its lap. Its arms encircle me.

“I waited for you, Daddy. I waited in that closet for a very long time.”

“You were very brave, my daughter. You did exactly what you should have. I love you.”


******

The snows continue to come each year. And when the Kazazzians calculate it must be Christmas time, they give me another party. But none of their presents can ever compete with the first one, the Christmas when the Kazazzians gave me back my daddy, my white haired, nose-kissing Santa daddy who never leaves my side and always holds me in its lap and says “I love you. “

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1,000 words



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