Father Christmas is Coming
By Andy Morris
I don’t know if this message will reach anyone but if it does, please take note. My name is Nicholas and I’m eight years old. Everything I’m about to say is real. This isn’t a joke, so please; you must take this letter seriously…
I never understood the true meaning of Christmas, until it was too late. Granny Matilda tried to explain it to me but she was old and a bit funny, so I didn’t really listen to her. I wish I had now because she knew all about the old traditions and why we should observe them. For example: During the build-up to Christmas, you shouldn’t do anything that could draw the attention of his helpers. Don’t be overly nice or overly naughty. Do a kind deed but don’t seek recognition for it. His spies are everywhere and they’re always watching. If they do take an interest in you, your name will be added to the list and The Old Man of Christmas will come for you.
That’s why you should leave your lights on all night. Not to light Santa’s way. No, they’re to drive him away. In the past people kept candles lit and fires burning all night and in modern times Christmas lights serve the same purpose. He doesn’t like the light. It’s the dark, quiet houses where he likes to prowl.
Now, if Father Christmas does come crawling into your house he cannot and will not leave emptyhanded. So you should always leave an offering him. If you’re lucky he’ll take the food and drink left out for him, then he’ll be on his way without harming anyone.
Finally, the most important piece of advice: Children should always be asleep when he comes. I used to think grown-ups said that because they wanted to make sure the kids’ don’t see them taking their presents downstairs and spoiling the magic of believing in Santa, but I was wrong. He’s powerless to do anything to you unless you look directly at him. If he catches you looking at him, he’ll seize you and take you away. I know this is true because I saw him once.
It was Christmas Eve 1987 and I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited about getting a Sinclair ZX Spectrum. The tape deck built-into the keyboard is so rad, much better than the Atari and Commodores that everyone at school had. I knew I was getting my computer because I’d been working mega hard on the build-up to Christmas. I wanted Santa to know that I was a good boy and deserved it, despite what Granny Matilda said. So, I swept the leaves in the garden, cleared the snow and washed my parents’ cars every weekend from the beginning of November onwards. I worked hard at school and went out of my way to help people. I didn’t know it at the time but I must have been spotted by one of his spies and my name was added to the list. He likes children who are nice, obedient and strong. I’m no BA Baracus but I work hard and I always do as I’m told. That’s why I’m still here in this cold dark wilderness.
As Christmas Eve slowly passed from day to night my anticipation grew more unbearable. I watched the sun go down and the streetlights come on. Everything buzzed with Christmassy excitement and I felt I would burst at any moment. I may as well have drunk a family-sized bottle of Pepsi because there was no way I could sleep. Before I went up I thought it would be funny to eat the mince pie and drink the milk we’d left out for Santa. That way, when my parents went up to bed they would think he had already been! I scoffed the lot and bounced into my room in fits of giggles. Granny often said my jokes would land me in trouble, and she was right.
It’s still so clear in my mind; I’d been lying in bed for ages thinking about Christmas morning. I listened to Mum and Dad watching ‘A Duty Free Christmas’ on the telly downstairs. An hour later I heard them switching off the lights and then clumping up to bed. There was a rustle of wrapping paper as presents were carried downstairs. Then the house went quiet and after a while, I heard my Dad snoring in the other room. It was past midnight and I was still awake fidgeting and squirming with excitement when I heard a noise: A creaking sound. It was probably a floorboard settling but, it might also be someone sneaking through the house to deliver more presents. Like any eight-year-old, I knew with absolute certainty it had to be Santa! My body tingled with delight at the thought of him actually in our house. Remembering I was supposed to be asleep I wriggled into a straight position and tried to lie as still as possible. As I lay under my He-Man bedcovers pretending to snooze I felt the atmosphere change. Someone had entered my room.
It was him!
My naive mind was churning with expectation. I screwed up my eyes as tight as I could but my mouth kept twitching into a smile. I was trying so hard to be still that I wasn’t even breathing. Then my lips curled into a silly grin. I thought for a moment that it could just be Mum coming to check on me so I pretended to roll over in my sleep to hide my smirk. I’d never been able to fool her like that normally. She’d always see through my trickery straight away, unlike Dad. The unknown visitor moved up to my bed and waited patiently. Mum would have woken me up by now and Dad was still snoring so it had to be Santa. I opened my eyes and turned around expecting to see the cheerful figure that brings happiness and joy, but it wasn’t him. It looked nothing like him.
Staring back at me was the ugly twisted face of the real Father Christmas. The ancient one from legend that Granny Matilda had warned me of. His large bulbous nose hovered just inches away, blowing a gale on my face. He was wrapped in a dirty red cloak that smelled musty and damp like an old piece of carpet left out in the rain. A long tangled beard covered most of his withered face and it dangled down to his waist like a thicket of brambles in an untended garden. The old man silently leered at me, judging me through eyes that were as black as coals. I just lay there looking back at him. I didn’t even try to call my parents or run away, not that it would have done any good.
The old man said something in a strange foreign language. His rasping voice was far from jolly. It was guttural and dry like dusty sandpaper. A moment later, dozens of bony twig-like hands grabbed me under the covers, pinning me to the mattress. His little goblin helpers slowly poked their heads out from under the bedding. Their green eyes glittered with mischief while their pointy ears and sharp rat-like noses quivered where they quietly cackled at their own cunning. They stood no more than three feet tall with naked grey flesh stretched over their thin skeletal bodies. The sight and sound of the horrid little creatures shocked me into action and I begin to struggle, but I couldn’t move. Their fingers pressed painfully into my skin holding me fast. Another goblin climbed spider-like up onto my chest and tied a stocking over my mouth so I couldn’t shout for help. More cruel laughter ensued from the spindly creatures and I screamed and screamed but could make no sound. The old man stood up. Nodding in satisfaction he uttered another series of throaty consonants. His minions hoisted me aloft and carried me out onto the landing like some bizarre funeral procession. We quietly descended the stairs past the rows of cards and gold tinsel that decorated the bannister.
I fought and kicked but they were too strong. The gag over my mouth muffled all my cries and Mum and Dad were fast asleep so they had no idea what was happening. As silently as the winter snow the band of goblins took me along the hallway, beneath the coloured paper bell hanging from the light shade and the paper chains draped over my various school photos on the wall. A faint glow from the Christmas tree lights illuminated the end of the hallway. Mum and Dad must have left them on. For a brief moment, I thought I might be okay because he hated the light but the old man just hissed at the open lounge door, like a cat warning off a foe. Then he trudged into the kitchen towards the back door.
All of a sudden we were outside in the shadowy back garden. I didn’t even see how he opened the door. One moment we were inside and in the next cold air blew through my Thundercats pyjamas. Hundreds of stars twinkled above me in the black velvet sky. Before I could consider this any further my attention was seized by a low growl that steamed with brutal menace. My head snapped round to behold a pack of enormous beasts. They were harnessed by thick chains to a waggon standing in the middle of the garden. The enormous shaggy monsters were as tall as a person. They bellowed and snarled and stamped their hooves ferociously as we drew near. Each one glared at me through crazed blood-red eyes. One of them lowered its head as I was carried past. It lunged at me, trying to impale me with its great curling horns. The chains of its harness pulled it short and it roared at me in an angry challenge. One of the goblin helpers shouted at the creature in its strange tongue. The rat-like creature produced a long red cane and set about thrashing the animal. The wicked brutality brought a chorus of shrieking delight from his companions. They laughed wildly revealing mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth.
There was another grunted command from Father Christmas and I was dropped into a rough sack lying on the grass. Before I could react the sides of the scratchy material was drawn up around me and securely tied at the top, shutting out the night sky. Someone swung the sack and I was dumped on the hard wooden floor of the waggon. Dull pain bloomed in my hip and shoulder from where I landed. I cried out but moan was muffled by the stocking. As I pulled my arm around to rub the pain away I heard a shout and the cruel sound of a whip cracking against hide. Next, there was a violent jolt and I was thrown backwards hitting my head on something solid. Then I slid to the side into another wall. All I could do was curl into a ball to protect myself as the wooden vehicle careened away at a terrible speed. The cold wind rushed by and we were travelling so fast; faster than concord! The old man drove the wagon higher and quicker still, racing away into a dark terrifying night which, for me, would never end.
We travelled north. He took me deep into the frozen wastes, far away from the eyes of the world where the snowy wilderness keeps his existence a secret. Here in his icy hollow, I found other children he’d taken over the years, decades, even centuries! Somehow time runs differently in this place. I’ve been here for years yet I am still only eight years old! It’s as if the moment he takes a child they are erased from history. We’ve all been forgotten by our families and friends and teachers. To them, it's like we never existed. We’re just a dream; a memory of an idea of something that could have been but never was.
All children brought to his lair are made to work in the mines beneath his factories. We toil for endless days in the cold dark earth under the watchful gaze of his cruel goblins. They force us to dig and burrow and search for precious metals found deep in the frozen rock. These metals are then taken in carts up to the factories above where The Father of Christmas sits on his throne, drawing his plans for the future of humanity. He’s building something up there; something terrible and frightening and he’s going to unleash it upon the world. He’s been working on it for a long time and it’s almost ready. Soon his helpers will load it into his waggon and then he’ll deliver his gift to the unsuspecting world.
There’s no hope for us lost children but you can still help yourselves: Tell others, warn loved ones. He’ll come on Christmas Eve and by Christmas morning, the world as you know it will be changed forever. So please take note and watch out: Father Christmas is coming!
I never understood the true meaning of Christmas, until it was too late. Granny Matilda tried to explain it to me but she was old and a bit funny, so I didn’t really listen to her. I wish I had now because she knew all about the old traditions and why we should observe them. For example: During the build-up to Christmas, you shouldn’t do anything that could draw the attention of his helpers. Don’t be overly nice or overly naughty. Do a kind deed but don’t seek recognition for it. His spies are everywhere and they’re always watching. If they do take an interest in you, your name will be added to the list and The Old Man of Christmas will come for you.
That’s why you should leave your lights on all night. Not to light Santa’s way. No, they’re to drive him away. In the past people kept candles lit and fires burning all night and in modern times Christmas lights serve the same purpose. He doesn’t like the light. It’s the dark, quiet houses where he likes to prowl.
Now, if Father Christmas does come crawling into your house he cannot and will not leave emptyhanded. So you should always leave an offering him. If you’re lucky he’ll take the food and drink left out for him, then he’ll be on his way without harming anyone.
Finally, the most important piece of advice: Children should always be asleep when he comes. I used to think grown-ups said that because they wanted to make sure the kids’ don’t see them taking their presents downstairs and spoiling the magic of believing in Santa, but I was wrong. He’s powerless to do anything to you unless you look directly at him. If he catches you looking at him, he’ll seize you and take you away. I know this is true because I saw him once.
It was Christmas Eve 1987 and I couldn’t sleep. I was so excited about getting a Sinclair ZX Spectrum. The tape deck built-into the keyboard is so rad, much better than the Atari and Commodores that everyone at school had. I knew I was getting my computer because I’d been working mega hard on the build-up to Christmas. I wanted Santa to know that I was a good boy and deserved it, despite what Granny Matilda said. So, I swept the leaves in the garden, cleared the snow and washed my parents’ cars every weekend from the beginning of November onwards. I worked hard at school and went out of my way to help people. I didn’t know it at the time but I must have been spotted by one of his spies and my name was added to the list. He likes children who are nice, obedient and strong. I’m no BA Baracus but I work hard and I always do as I’m told. That’s why I’m still here in this cold dark wilderness.
As Christmas Eve slowly passed from day to night my anticipation grew more unbearable. I watched the sun go down and the streetlights come on. Everything buzzed with Christmassy excitement and I felt I would burst at any moment. I may as well have drunk a family-sized bottle of Pepsi because there was no way I could sleep. Before I went up I thought it would be funny to eat the mince pie and drink the milk we’d left out for Santa. That way, when my parents went up to bed they would think he had already been! I scoffed the lot and bounced into my room in fits of giggles. Granny often said my jokes would land me in trouble, and she was right.
It’s still so clear in my mind; I’d been lying in bed for ages thinking about Christmas morning. I listened to Mum and Dad watching ‘A Duty Free Christmas’ on the telly downstairs. An hour later I heard them switching off the lights and then clumping up to bed. There was a rustle of wrapping paper as presents were carried downstairs. Then the house went quiet and after a while, I heard my Dad snoring in the other room. It was past midnight and I was still awake fidgeting and squirming with excitement when I heard a noise: A creaking sound. It was probably a floorboard settling but, it might also be someone sneaking through the house to deliver more presents. Like any eight-year-old, I knew with absolute certainty it had to be Santa! My body tingled with delight at the thought of him actually in our house. Remembering I was supposed to be asleep I wriggled into a straight position and tried to lie as still as possible. As I lay under my He-Man bedcovers pretending to snooze I felt the atmosphere change. Someone had entered my room.
It was him!
My naive mind was churning with expectation. I screwed up my eyes as tight as I could but my mouth kept twitching into a smile. I was trying so hard to be still that I wasn’t even breathing. Then my lips curled into a silly grin. I thought for a moment that it could just be Mum coming to check on me so I pretended to roll over in my sleep to hide my smirk. I’d never been able to fool her like that normally. She’d always see through my trickery straight away, unlike Dad. The unknown visitor moved up to my bed and waited patiently. Mum would have woken me up by now and Dad was still snoring so it had to be Santa. I opened my eyes and turned around expecting to see the cheerful figure that brings happiness and joy, but it wasn’t him. It looked nothing like him.
Staring back at me was the ugly twisted face of the real Father Christmas. The ancient one from legend that Granny Matilda had warned me of. His large bulbous nose hovered just inches away, blowing a gale on my face. He was wrapped in a dirty red cloak that smelled musty and damp like an old piece of carpet left out in the rain. A long tangled beard covered most of his withered face and it dangled down to his waist like a thicket of brambles in an untended garden. The old man silently leered at me, judging me through eyes that were as black as coals. I just lay there looking back at him. I didn’t even try to call my parents or run away, not that it would have done any good.
The old man said something in a strange foreign language. His rasping voice was far from jolly. It was guttural and dry like dusty sandpaper. A moment later, dozens of bony twig-like hands grabbed me under the covers, pinning me to the mattress. His little goblin helpers slowly poked their heads out from under the bedding. Their green eyes glittered with mischief while their pointy ears and sharp rat-like noses quivered where they quietly cackled at their own cunning. They stood no more than three feet tall with naked grey flesh stretched over their thin skeletal bodies. The sight and sound of the horrid little creatures shocked me into action and I begin to struggle, but I couldn’t move. Their fingers pressed painfully into my skin holding me fast. Another goblin climbed spider-like up onto my chest and tied a stocking over my mouth so I couldn’t shout for help. More cruel laughter ensued from the spindly creatures and I screamed and screamed but could make no sound. The old man stood up. Nodding in satisfaction he uttered another series of throaty consonants. His minions hoisted me aloft and carried me out onto the landing like some bizarre funeral procession. We quietly descended the stairs past the rows of cards and gold tinsel that decorated the bannister.
I fought and kicked but they were too strong. The gag over my mouth muffled all my cries and Mum and Dad were fast asleep so they had no idea what was happening. As silently as the winter snow the band of goblins took me along the hallway, beneath the coloured paper bell hanging from the light shade and the paper chains draped over my various school photos on the wall. A faint glow from the Christmas tree lights illuminated the end of the hallway. Mum and Dad must have left them on. For a brief moment, I thought I might be okay because he hated the light but the old man just hissed at the open lounge door, like a cat warning off a foe. Then he trudged into the kitchen towards the back door.
All of a sudden we were outside in the shadowy back garden. I didn’t even see how he opened the door. One moment we were inside and in the next cold air blew through my Thundercats pyjamas. Hundreds of stars twinkled above me in the black velvet sky. Before I could consider this any further my attention was seized by a low growl that steamed with brutal menace. My head snapped round to behold a pack of enormous beasts. They were harnessed by thick chains to a waggon standing in the middle of the garden. The enormous shaggy monsters were as tall as a person. They bellowed and snarled and stamped their hooves ferociously as we drew near. Each one glared at me through crazed blood-red eyes. One of them lowered its head as I was carried past. It lunged at me, trying to impale me with its great curling horns. The chains of its harness pulled it short and it roared at me in an angry challenge. One of the goblin helpers shouted at the creature in its strange tongue. The rat-like creature produced a long red cane and set about thrashing the animal. The wicked brutality brought a chorus of shrieking delight from his companions. They laughed wildly revealing mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth.
There was another grunted command from Father Christmas and I was dropped into a rough sack lying on the grass. Before I could react the sides of the scratchy material was drawn up around me and securely tied at the top, shutting out the night sky. Someone swung the sack and I was dumped on the hard wooden floor of the waggon. Dull pain bloomed in my hip and shoulder from where I landed. I cried out but moan was muffled by the stocking. As I pulled my arm around to rub the pain away I heard a shout and the cruel sound of a whip cracking against hide. Next, there was a violent jolt and I was thrown backwards hitting my head on something solid. Then I slid to the side into another wall. All I could do was curl into a ball to protect myself as the wooden vehicle careened away at a terrible speed. The cold wind rushed by and we were travelling so fast; faster than concord! The old man drove the wagon higher and quicker still, racing away into a dark terrifying night which, for me, would never end.
We travelled north. He took me deep into the frozen wastes, far away from the eyes of the world where the snowy wilderness keeps his existence a secret. Here in his icy hollow, I found other children he’d taken over the years, decades, even centuries! Somehow time runs differently in this place. I’ve been here for years yet I am still only eight years old! It’s as if the moment he takes a child they are erased from history. We’ve all been forgotten by our families and friends and teachers. To them, it's like we never existed. We’re just a dream; a memory of an idea of something that could have been but never was.
All children brought to his lair are made to work in the mines beneath his factories. We toil for endless days in the cold dark earth under the watchful gaze of his cruel goblins. They force us to dig and burrow and search for precious metals found deep in the frozen rock. These metals are then taken in carts up to the factories above where The Father of Christmas sits on his throne, drawing his plans for the future of humanity. He’s building something up there; something terrible and frightening and he’s going to unleash it upon the world. He’s been working on it for a long time and it’s almost ready. Soon his helpers will load it into his waggon and then he’ll deliver his gift to the unsuspecting world.
There’s no hope for us lost children but you can still help yourselves: Tell others, warn loved ones. He’ll come on Christmas Eve and by Christmas morning, the world as you know it will be changed forever. So please take note and watch out: Father Christmas is coming!