Santa's and my marriage adventure.
|Write a story about Mr. and Mrs. Claus first meeting, going on a date, falling in love, or getting married. Written for "The Whatever Contest." "The Whatever Contest"
Word/Line Count 993: Prompt - How Santa and I got married.
When we got back, the North Pole was a smoking ruin along with our wedding plans. “Krumpus has been here,” wailed a disheveled senior project elf. “She stole the bad boys and girls black list.”
“Krumpus.” Santa turned the name into a curse. “She has been following me since I became Saint Nickolas. The way she makes a name for herself is a shame.”
I prowled around the rising rings of smoke. The toys seemed untouched. They were too new for their magic to fail them.
“She won’t leave us.” Santa grumbled.
“I thought Krumpus was only local German legend about punishing misbehaving children at Christmastime?” I turned to Santa who had turned white as the snow falling within our midst. Elves who had not scattered to the wind looked like white coated ghosts pulling tarps over the hissing remains of our roof.
“It is why I changed from Saint Nicholas to become a simple toy maker.” Santa groaned. One of the wooden stools he’d made was thrust under him. He sat down looking worried. “What about the children in the elf village?”
I looked in that direction. Billowing smoke signals rose into the sky. All thought of my wedding went up with them. “Oh, no. What has that evil witch done?”
“Her trip here is a warning. She wants to be included and given her due on our plans for Christmas.” Santa rose wearily, dusted soot off a knee.
“What do you think she will do with the bad little girls and boys now that she knows who they are?” I asked, trembling from fear and the cold.
Santa’s look brightened with a steel glint coming into his eyes. “Nothing we do not give her. She has no magic of her own. Evil may be sneaky, cheat and try to do things the short sighted easy way but in anything greater than that it usually fails.”
“So. What she wants is our magic.” I was mad. The flush burning on my cheeks must match the flaming red of my hair. “She can’t make us.”
“If that elf coming from his home village brings the message I think he does, I am afraid that she can.”
The messenger strode up to Santa and I, “Krumpus kidnapped some of our unruly children. She said you would know why and shame on you. They didn’t go easy. They were and throwing things at her when she set fire to our homes.”
“One of the more mischievous elves from another of the villages must have linked up with her.” I sighed.
There was no time to comfort each other. “She is a good organizer promising them sport.” Santa promised.
“How are we to get the children back before she taints their hearts?” I asked. “Mischievous elves will have their own form of magical tricks to play with at her command.”
We left the elf project chief director in charge to sort things out. It was easy enough to track the trail of tears frozen on the cheeks of elf mothers and fathers without children as we crossed villages along the way.
My heart was in my throat. I couldn’t think. I tugged on Santa’s coat to make him stop. “Are you coming up with a plan. You seem to know her well enough.”
“I’m wearing her out. Herding children is more like herding cats than dogs. It will grow harder with each one she takes with her. It won’t be long now before we catch up. Be ready for anything.”
I had never heard Santa growl like that. The reflection of magic in his eyes dimmed. It was up to me to do something. “Look, there she is.”
The sound of children taunting her with snowballs and pointed poking ice-cicles brought Santa’s head up. It was a sight to behold. “Young elves are worse at making mischief than mere kids. She’s got her hands full.”
Did I hear the small echo of a slight “Ho, ho, ho” under his breath? It gave me courage. I moved to walk by Santa’s side, avoiding snowballs flung our way. “Enough,” I shouted.
Frumpus cried out, knowing she was caught. “You’ll not take away one of my elves, not one. I’ll see them dead first,” She roared. The torch Frumpus carried swung back and forth, searing the sizzling air in search of a target.
Young elves danced in and out plucking and pinching at her clothes. Things were getting out of hand. “Kiss me, Santa,” I said. He did. Time paused.
“Simple pleasures are the best,” Santa squeezed out a hug.
“Our love is strong,” I replied. It took no time at all to smother Frumpus’ fire stick. Snowballs stuck down the backs of the young elves would do some mischief of their own.
We were ready. Santa and I. Frumpus did not wiggle free when time began moving. “Steady. We’ll give you a measure of what you want. You’d be too much of a bother, otherwise. Sign our contract.”
Frumpus gave in with the limits we imposed on her, thinking she might wiggle a way out later on. We led our small band back with us. Things had settled down.
Time could no longer be delayed without cause. Christmas was upon us. Santa and I joined hands making an offering of our love up to God. “Bless our union.” We sealed our simple marriage ceremony with a kiss that sent shooting stars up into the sky.
“Hurry up.” Frumpus fumed, juggling her lumped up bag of goal. “Be gone. I’ll follow. ”
I jumped up in Santa’s sleigh with him. His toy bag joined us. Our honeymoon journey that night is private, except for you to know it started with the best and sweetest kiss I’d ever felt.