The Christmasaurus

by Tom Fletcher

  Santa nodded and continued. “That is the reason I am able to exist…William Trundle.”

  At the mention of his full name, William couldn’t help but notice that all the elves started whispering among themselves. Santa gave them a big, jolly smile with his wise eyes, and they calmed down.

  “How do you know my name?” William asked.

  “Well, it took me a moment to realize. I didn’t expect to see a boy here in the North Pole. We haven’t had a boy here for a very long time,” said Santa thoughtfully. “But once I knew that you really were a boy, it was obvious. There was only one boy you could be.” Santa reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to William.

  “My letter!” said William, recognizing it at once.

  “Yes. It gave me quite some trouble, this one!” Santa said, handing the letter to William. William started reading his handwriting as Santa recited the words from memory.

  “Dear Santa, for Christmas this year I would like a lot of things that you probably can’t give me, but a dinosaur would make me very happy! Merry Christmas…William Trundle.”

  Santa looked down at William as though he were trying to read his mind. “Tell me, William, what are these things you speak of? For this is the North Pole. It’s the place where dreams come true. More specifically, where children’s dreams come true.”

  William’s heart skipped a thump.

  “My dreams can come true here?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. Dreams, wishes, hopes—you name it!” replied Santa confidently. “This entire place is made from children’s dreams! It is the one place in the entire world where whatever you truly desire can materialize before your very eyes.”

  “But that can’t be true,” said William, causing all the elves to gasp again.

  “And why do you think that, young William?” asked Santa, looking a little confused himself.

  “Because if my dream, my wish, my true desire can come true here, then…”

  William looked down thoughtfully at his wheelchair and wondered. Was it really possible if he truly wanted it? Then he took a deep breath and tried to do something…something impossible.

  He tried to stand up.

  All the elves watched with amazement. Smaller elves climbed on taller elves’ shoulders, who were already standing on the tallest elves to get a better view.

  William wobbled a little as his hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair. He scrunched his face up tight and held his breath. He tried to stand harder than he’d ever tried to do anything before. But it was no use. He slumped back into his chair, defeated.

  He couldn’t do it.

  “See!” William said, looking up into Santa’s warm face. “You said that my dreams can come true here, but if that’s true, then why can’t I walk?”

  The North Pole had never been so quiet.

  No one’s dreams had ever not come true here before.

  Santa’s eyes stared deep into William’s. His kind face had a wise sort of knowing smile, as though he already had the answer to every question you could possibly think of before you’d even thought of it.

  “My dear William. Perhaps…could it be possible, maybe, that what you’re asking for isn’t what you truly desire?” asked Santa in the kindest, deepest, wisest voice.

  William looked at his legs and then at his wheelchair. He’d been sitting in it for longer than he could remember. It was all he’d ever known. But William realized that until Brenda had come along and knocked his confidence, he’d never once wished for anything else. Maybe Santa was right. Maybe this wasn’t what he really wanted.

  “William, close your eyes. I want to try something. Let’s see if we can unravel this riddle of yours,” said Santa, kneeling down beside William and placing his huge, warm hand on William’s shoulder. He began to whisper. “Breathe deep, William. Let the North Pole air inside your mind. It will help us to find what your heart is searching for.”

  William breathed in the cool air. It was fresh and sweet with the smell of something familiar: toasted crumpets. It made William think of his dad.

  “Good, William. Now I want you to stop searching. Stop trying to find what you want, and imagine you already have it. Don’t just imagine it. See it. Hear it. Feel it….Believe it.”

  Suddenly, glorious music filled the air. Santa’s gramophone had burst to life on its own, playing a song no one had ever heard before. It was beautiful.

  William opened his eyes and was shocked to see hundreds of elves, the Christmasaurus, and Santa all staring up at something. Something above William’s head.

  He swiveled his chair around in the snow, and what he saw completely took his breath away.

  It was his dad in the sky.

  The greens and blues, purples and yellows of the Northern Lights had wondrously weaved into the shape of Mr. Trundle in the starry sky over the North Pole. William tried to take it all in. He realized he’d never seen his dad look so happy.

  Then, all of a sudden, the lights and colors started swaying and swirling around to the sound pouring from the gramophone, and William realized his father wasn’t alone in the sky.

  Mr. Trundle was dancing with a woman.

  He lovingly spun her over the stars and they waltzed across the sky.

  Tears filled William’s eyes as the Northern Lights faded and the song slowed and softened.

  “Family,” Santa whispered as William’s vision in the sky came to an end. “Your father’s happiness. That is your true desire.”

  All was quiet.

  William was deep in thought. It was right there in the North Pole that he realized that he’d found what he truly wanted—and that walking wouldn’t get him there. He stared down at his chair, but not in sadness this time. He was happy. Happy to be himself once again.

  “Thank you, Santa,” William said with a smile. “So…can I wish for a new girlfriend for my dad?”

  “Oh, William, I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t…,” said Santa.

  “But, Santa, think about it. That’s a new girlfriend for Dad AND a new mom for me. We’re basically sharing a present! Two birds with one stone!” said William with a cheeky sort of smile, still hoping it might be possible.

  Santa chuckled to himself as he thoughtfully stroked his beard. “There are some things, William, that I simply can’t do. There are rules to this job, you know.”

  William listened closely as Santa explained.

  “Firstly and most importantly: I can’t hurt people, and, believe me, you’d be surprised how many rotten eggs ask me to take down a teacher or two each year! Secondly and similarly: I can’t make people come back to life. Thirdly and most frustratingly: I can’t make cheesecakes. And lastly and most relevantly: I can’t make people fall in love.”

  William looked to the sky, where he’d just seen his true desire, and sighed.

  Noticing William’s disappointment, Santa added, “However, if there’s one time of year that dramatically improves someone’s chances of falling in love, then it’s most certainly Christmastime. After all, it is the best time to fall in love.”

  “Now I think we should be taking you back to your father,” said Santa. “It’s Christmas morning, and I can’t imagine he’ll find any happiness in waking up to discover you’ve disappeared in the night!”

  All of a sudden, William noticed that everything was starting to fade and go all fuzzy, like the world around him was ceasing to exist! He’d never fainted before, but he thought to himself that this might be what fainting would feel like. The magical place in which he was sitting was getting fainter and fainter, and suddenly he could see distant snowfields and mountains where the wonderful buildings had been.

  “Quickly, William!” Santa’s voice came from somewhere in the fading fuzz. “Take a bite of the candy cane!”

  William looked at the red-and-white
treat with his name running through it; he’d forgotten he was holding it. It was the only thing that hadn’t seemed to fade out of existence. He looked back up to see nothing. Absolutely everything had gone. The sleigh. The reindeer. The elves. Everything had vanished!

  “Hello?” he called out into the frozen emptiness.

  He quickly popped the stick of candy into his mouth, and as he tasted its sweet deliciousness on his tongue, the magical world reappeared before his eyes.

  “What just happened?” asked William as Santa and the elves all revaporated in the same spot they were in just before.

  “Well, William, lots of people would love to come to this place. Unfortunately, not all of those people are nice people. And we don’t want horrid rotters turning up at the North Pole. No, no, no! So we protected it with magic,” Santa explained. “You see, the North Pole is in another dimension. It’s somewhere between Imagination and Make-Believe, but not quite as far as Unthinkable, and if you get to Not-Doable, then you’ve definitely gone too far. To get here, you have to be invited; and to be invited, you have to be good—truly good, through and through! When we have guests, if they’re truly good, they are presented with one of these deliciously magical Cosmos-Converting Candy Canes.” Santa pointed to the half-eaten candy cane in William’s hand. “All they have to do is lick the candy, and they are filled with wonderful, tasty magic that allows them to see our world.”

  “So what happens when they’ve eaten all of the candy cane?” asked William curiously.

  “Then their time here is up! Poof! Pop! GONE!” Santa said merrily. “It’s the only way anyone can get in or out! Quite a genius idea, actually. Thought of that one myself!”

  William looked at what was left of the candy cane in his hand and suddenly wished it were a lot bigger, so that he could stay longer! Then he had a cheeky idea. He quickly covered his Cosmos-Converting Candy Cane with his hands and sneakily snapped off a small piece. He popped it up his pajama sleeve, out of sight, then continued to suck on what was left in his hand. Now he had a way to get back here!

  “That way we can keep the rotten, horridable stinkers out!” Santa laughed. “Of course, it hasn’t always been like this. There was a time when any old troubler could wander up here willy-nilly.”

  “Oh, Santa, that reminds me! There’s something I need to tell you!” said William, who had almost forgotten about the evil Hunter.

  William explained all about their night and the adventure they’d had. How the hateful Hunter and his hideous hound had tried to shoot them and hang their heads on his wall. How he had believed that the Christmasaurus could fly, and how he took off and flew all the way through the night to the North Pole.

  “By golly gumdrops!” Santa said “That does sound like an adventure! I’m afraid I know exactly the Hunter you’re talking about. Bony fingers?”

  “Yes!”

  “Lumpy white scar down his face?”

  “Yep!”

  “Smokes a horrid, smelly pipe?”

  “That’s him! How do you know him?” asked William.

  “Many Christmases ago, before the Hunter was the hunter, when he was still just a little boy named Huxley, he was very exceptionally naughty. Think of yourself on your naughtiest day, and I bet that’s nowhere close to Huxley on his best behavior! He was so naughty that I had no choice but to put him on the Naughty List, and I hate having to put children on the Naughty List,” Santa explained.

  “As Huxley grew, so did his naughtiness. In fact, as time went on, he became well and truly rotten. He was vicious and cruel, and had discovered a rather horrible new hobby: he loved hunting animals. Even the family pets weren’t safe when Huxley was around!”

  Santa sat his huge bottom in the snow, getting himself comfortable for the next part of his story. William, the Christmasaurus, and all the elves were gathered around, listening closely to every word Santa said. He was a great storyteller.

  “One particular Christmas Eve, Huxley’s little brother was awake far past his bedtime. He was peering out his bedroom window, hoping to catch a glimpse of me, and, indeed, he saw my sleigh soaring overhead! Huxley cried out and dashed to the window. That, I’m afraid, was the moment he saw my beautiful reindeer for the very first time. If only I had known, I would have taken a detour!

  “As I was jollily plopping presents down the chimneys of the other children in their town, unbeknown to me, Huxley was hurriedly and horridly concocting a plan, and he did something unthinkably naughty—he persuaded his little brother to join him. As fast as they could, they scurried up the drainpipe and concealed themselves in the shadows of their rooftop before I arrived. When I landed on it, they sneakily, cheekily crept into the back of my sleigh, keeping impossibly quiet. I was so full of Christmas jolliness, I totally missed them!” Santa said, shaking his head.

  “Huxley’s mind was so rotten with greedy nastiness that when he got here, to this wonderfully magical place, he wanted it all. He wanted to take everything. Huxley, with his impressionable little brother following closely behind, snuck around the ranch, taking in all the wonderfully magical sights, smelling the wonderful smells. But there was already one thing on Huxley’s mind. Something in particular that he wanted, that he truly desired!”

  “What?” William cried. “What did he want?”

  “My Magnificently Magical Flying Reindeer,” Santa said sadly, and he pointed to the incredible creatures still harnessed to the sleigh. “The boys sneakily snuck their way to the stables, where Huxley made his brother climb on his shoulders and smash the window. He was small enough then to climb through and open the door for Huxley to step inside. That nasty little worm wasted no time. His greed and his hunting instincts clicked into overdrive as he leapt onto the back of one of my magnificent deer.”

  All the elves gasped. Some even shrieked.

  “He stole a flying reindeer?” William cried.

  “Worse!” Santa said. “While clinging to the back of the frightened deer, Huxley pulled out a small golden pocket knife that he’d stolen from his wealthy father, and began to hack at the reindeer’s antlers! But the deer wouldn’t hold still. The deer launched high into the air inside the stables, smashing through the roof!”

  Santa described it so well that it made William jump!

  “His little brother, fearing for Huxley’s life, grabbed hold of the deer’s reins and tried to pull them back down, but the deer was too powerful for the young lad, and the boy’s feet lifted off the ground as he too was pulled through the roof and into the sky.”

  Santa paused and swallowed hard. William noticed that he was somehow not looking as jolly as he had, as though whatever he was about to say was really difficult.

  “That’s when things went from awfully dreadful to dreadfully awful. The young boy was so scared as he clung to the dangling reins in the sky that, in his panic, he began to wish the deer couldn’t fly.”

  William felt his heart sink in his chest. He already knew what happened next.

  “His wish came true?” William said.

  Santa nodded.

  “The deer came crashing down to the ground with Huxley and his brother too. That was the last time that magnificent reindeer ever flew. When the young boy cleared the snow away from his eyes, he saw Huxley standing wickedly over the grounded deer, clutching a piece of its antler in his hateful hand. That’s when I found them.”

  “What did you do?” William asked.

  “I had no choice, William, but to banish the boys from the North Pole. Forever,” Santa said, and all the elves burst into harmonious sobs.

  “Of course, that little rotter Huxley quickly shoved the piece of antler into his brother’s trembling hands in an attempt to pin the blame on him. That’s when it happened. I couldn’t help it! A huge, thick teardrop formed in the corner of my eye, and as it rolled down my cheek, it froze and became a snowflake, floating through the air.”
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br />   The elves all paused in unison and took a breath before their tuneful sobbing continued.

  “This snowflake was so full of my sadness that the very instant it landed on Huxley’s shoulder, he disappeared from the North Pole.”

  “He vanished?” said William.

  “Banished!” replied Santa. “My tears are the only thing strong enough to do it. Then I looked into the eyes of Huxley’s little brother, who held out the piece of antler in his hand. ‘You must keep it,’ I told him, ‘and let it remind you of what happened here tonight.’ Then a second tear plopped out of my eye, froze on the air, and banished the boy as he held the stolen antler to his heart.”

  William thought Santa looked so sad that he might cry enough tears to banish him, the Christmasaurus, and every single one of the crowd of elves gathered around, listening.

  “What happened to them after they were banished?” said William curiously.

  Santa looked into William’s eyes again, and William got the funny feeling that Santa was thinking carefully about what he was saying.

  “Well, Huxley became that repulsive, evil, maliciously rotten skinbag you met tonight. Unfortunately, seeing my magnificent deer up close had only fueled his obsession for rare animals and trophies. He’s been trying to grabnab one of my flying reindeer every year since, but he never gets close to ’em.”

  “Well, he got pretty close to grabnabbing a flying dinosaur tonight!” William said.

  “That reminds me…,” said Santa, and he turned and faced the Christmasaurus.

  “My dear little dinosaur, what the jingle were you doing in this young boy’s house?”

  The Christmasaurus looked ashamed. He stood and walked around to the back of William’s wheelchair and pulled something large out from underneath the seat with his mouth. It was Stuffy, its head peeking out of the wrapping paper.

  “I don’t believe my bogglers. You went all that way to get another look at this stuffed toy? You are a dongle-brained, wallychops dinosaur, aren’t you! You could have been lost forever! It’s not safe for you down there,” said Santa. “You have to stay here. This is your home!”