by Tom Fletcher
The Christmasaurus quickly shuffled over to William and parked his scaly bottom next to the boy’s wheelchair, wagging his tail hopefully at Santa.
“Oh, but, Santa, can’t the Christmasaurus stay with me? I promise to look after him!” pleaded William. “I’m not mean and awful, like that Hunter!”
“I know you’re not, William. You are a good, kind boy, with a kind, good heart, but there are some nasty people out there, William. Nasty people like the Hunter, who would love to grabnab themselves a Christmasaurus. Up here, with us, is the only place he is safe. The only place that evil rotter can’t find him!”
“But I know all about dinosaurs, and dinosaurs don’t come from the North Pole!” said William, desperate for the Christmasaurus to come home with him.
“He might not be from here, but he belongs here,” Santa said with a soft, wise smile.
William knew Santa was right. Looking around at all the magical creatures staring at him—elves, fairies, snowmen, narwhals, polar bears—even the mountains themselves seemed to be alive—William realized that this was the Christmasaurus’s home. How could a flying dinosaur ever fit in anywhere other than the North Pole? It was the perfect place for him.
The Christmasaurus knew it too. He wished he could see William every day, but he loved the North Pole with all his heart and could never leave.
William and the Christmasaurus looked each other in the eye. The Christmasaurus let out a long, sad huff and dipped his head to the ground. William hated goodbyes too.
Santa placed a hand on the Christmasaurus’s head and the other on William’s shoulder and whispered, “A friend for Christmas is a friend forever.”
Suddenly, William felt as though the ground were moving. He looked down and saw that eight elves had picked up his wheelchair and were hoisting him toward the sleigh. It was Snozzletrump, Specklehump, Sparklefoot, Sugarsnout, Starlump, Spudcheeks, Snowcrumb, and Sprout, and they were singing (of course!).
“We’re sending William on his way
Back home again this Christmas Day.
He’s seen a lot tonight for sure,
From flying Christmas dinosaurs
To evil hunters and their hounds.
Then somehow this boy William found
His way to this enchanted place
And from the look upon his face
He liked it—well, of course he did:
It’s all a dreamworld for a kid.
There’s so much more to show you, BUT
Your time is done—you’ve seen enough.
Now get back home and don’t delay!
Quick, hoist him up upon the sleigh!”
The elves finished singing and with a loud heave-ho! lifted William in his chair into Santa’s sleigh. Santa hopped to his feet and did some sort of cartwheel thingy and plonked his enormous bottom next to William. He really was an oddly jolly man!
Among the crowd of elves, William saw the shimmering blue head of the Christmasaurus. As the dinosaur took a step closer, he could see that William was crying. His tears froze instantly on his cheeks, and tiny, dusty snowflakes fell away.
“Goodbye, Christmasaurus,” William said, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. “I’m so glad I met you….”
At that, the Christmasaurus bent his head down low and gave William a goodbye hug. William wished he didn’t have to say goodbye, but he knew it was the right thing to do, and sometimes the right things to do are the hardest.
He wiped a tear away from his cheek as Santa wound up the old gramophone again. Glorious music lifted the sleigh from the ground as the elves and the Christmasaurus took a step back. Santa took a deep breath and was just about to sing when he looked at William and said, with a cheeky smile, “You can join in if you know the words!”
And with that, he burst into song, and the reindeer galloped excitedly into the warm Northern Lights once again. William couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. He was sitting in Santa’s sleigh, flying into the night sky with Santa himself sitting next to him…singing!
He looked over the side of the sleigh and gave one final wave to his new dinosaur friend. Just before the magical effects of the candy cane wore off, he noticed a lone reindeer below, standing gracefully on the roof of the Snow Ranch. A piece of its left antler was missing. William watched as the reindeer clopped toward the grand chimney that puffed glittery smoke into the air.
It raised a glowing golden hoof and gently dipped it into the smoke, and at the slightest touch the golden glow spread like warm magic up through the clouds, transforming them from billows of smoke into thick shafts of colored lights dancing through the sky.
William watched as the wonderful world below faded into nothing, and wondered if perhaps that deer too had found its true desire, in the Northern Lights. He hoped so.
Santa’s eight reindeer pulled the sleigh through the sky much faster than the Christmasaurus had pulled William’s wheelchair, and so they found themselves flying over William’s town in no time at all.
“That’s my house, right there! The little wonky one!” cried William excitedly as he saw the warm glow of the morning sun turn all the snowy rooftops orange. Santa steered the deer down to William’s rooftop and landed with no trouble at all.
“Wow, thanks!” William called to the eight wonderful deer.
“Right, let’s get you inside!” Santa said as he backflipped down from the sleigh and picked up William and his wheelchair with one arm, no problem. He skipped over to the chimney and placed William in his chair frighteningly close to the edge.
“That’s tiny! We’ll never fit down there!” William exclaimed, staring at the teensy hole in the top of the chimney.
Santa said nothing, but smiled at William. Suddenly, William had the most bizarre sensation that he was shrinking. Or was everything else growing? Either way, in the blink of an eye, the tiny hole in the top of William’s chimney flue was now an enormous hole, big enough for at least two Santas to fit down.
“I’d better go first,” said Santa. “I wouldn’t want to land on you!” And with that he did a large, double-twisty backflip into the darkness of the chimney. “Follow meeeeee!”
Whoa! William thought. He stared down into the dark black hole and suddenly wasn’t so sure he had the courage to do it.
That’s when everything started shrinking around him. Or was he growing? Whatever it was, the hole in the chimney was getting smaller! There was no time to think. It was now or never. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gave his wheels a big, hard push!
He fell down the chimney as fast as a rocket, spinning wildly out of control. He could feel the walls tightening around him as the chimney flue got smaller and smaller. Then he saw something very large and very dark coming toward him very, VERY fast!
William’s wheels never touched the ground.
He was swooped out of the fireplace in some sort of thick, ropy net!
“GOTCHA!” he heard a voice cackle as something awful and stinky stung his nostrils….PIPE SMOKE!
It was the Hunter! He was there, in William’s house! They’d jumped right into a trap!
William twisted and punched his fists through the holes in the net as the Hunter hoisted him into the air and hung him from the ceiling fan in the middle of the room.
“I KNEW IT! I told you, Growler, I told you they’d come back. What did I say? I said, ‘There’s no way they’ll keep that little wheelchair boy up there in the North Pole. They’ll bring him home, and when they do, we’ll be there waiting!’ That’s what I said. AND I WAS RIGHT! HA!” the Hunter boasted in his wickedly posh voice, with thick, smelly smoke pouring from his nostrils like a dragon’s as he cackled.
William wriggled as hard as he could, but the ropes from the net held him tight in his chair, dangling from the ceiling fan. He stopped fighting for a moment as he swung helplessly
and took a glance around his living room. As the room spun, he caught a glimpse of an awfully, terribly horrid sight. Santa was lying in a large heap on the floor below him with his hands tied tightly behind his back so that he couldn’t move.
“Santa!” William cried.
“Silence, boy, or your daddy is done for!” spat the Hunter, standing with one foot triumphantly on Santa’s back, his rifle raised and aimed, ready to fire at any moment.
William looked to where it was pointing and saw the most awful thing he’d seen yet. His dad was tied up with thick ropes in the corner of the room, staring back at William through cracked glasses, his eyes wide and terrified. Growler was pacing back and forth, menacingly baring his teeth whenever Mr. Trundle tried to speak.
William instinctively lashed out again, punching through the holes in the net, trying to reach the horrid Hunter.
“Now, listen to me, you stupid, puny little child. I’m going to speak slowly so that your undersized brain can understand me, as I’m only going to say this once.” The Hunter looked William directly in the eye, and William saw how wretchedly evil this man truly was. There was no chance he was ever returning to the Nice List!
“Where. Is. That. FLYING. Dinosaur?” he whispered in the most terrifying whisper William had ever heard.
“Don’ ’ell ’im, ’illiam!” Santa mumbled, struggling to get his words out as he lay facedown with his mouth full of beard!
“Shut it, fattypants. I’ll deal with you later!” barked the Hunter.
“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” screamed William.
Everything fell silent as he swung himself around so that he was facing the Hunter. William had had enough.
“You’re just an evil, horrid, nasty, sick, twisted man, and that’s why you’ll never find the Christmasaurus.” Tears were streaming down William’s face and dripping off his chin. “He’s in the safest, most magical place in the world now, and you’ll never find it. You’ll NEVER get back there!”
“’Illiam! Don’t say any…m-more!” Santa called, but William couldn’t hear his muffled plea. He was crying and shouting with so much emotion that he just couldn’t help the next thing he said from coming out of his mouth:
“You’ll never find him because you’re a rotten, stinking, trophy-hunting killer,” William screamed, “and they’ll never give you a Cosmos-Converting Candy Cane!”
It was at that very moment, as he pointed his fist at the Hunter, that the small piece of his own magical candy cane that he’d secretly hidden flew out from his sleeve and hurtled through the air. It shimmered and sparkled magically as it spun in front of the Hunter’s evil black eyes before landing with a delicate CLINK! at his feet.
The Hunter let out the most wicked, triumphant laugh, blowing stinky smoke from his pipe around the room as he swiped up the delicious-looking piece of magic candy from the floor.
“I have one now! That flying dinosaur’s head is practically mine. Mine! ALL MINE!” he cackled and puffed, puffed and cackled as he danced around the room, firing victory shots from his hunting rifle into the Trundles’ living room ceiling while waving the piece of magical red-and-white candy cane around like he’d won a golden ticket. He had a way to the North Pole. Nothing could stop him now!
Then all of a sudden, the Hunter heard a sound that made his heart stop. It came from out in the street.
It was the unmistakable roar of a dinosaur.
The Christmasaurus was here!
The Hunter sprang out of the living room in a flash, leaving only a thick cloud of smoke from his pipe. Growler wasted no time hanging around either and followed him straight out the door. The hunt was on. Their prey was close!
“We’ve got him this time, Growler!” William heard the Hunter cry as his voice disappeared out through the front door and into the street.
The Christmasaurus was in danger! William had to get free from the net and help him, but he felt more trapped than he’d ever felt in all his life. He was strapped into a wheelchair, caught in a net, hanging from the ceiling fan. It was hopeless!
But just then William saw something dangling in front of his face. Something hanging from the ceiling like a lifeline. The pull-cord to switch the ceiling fan ON!
Suddenly, William had an idea.
There was no time to think it through: he had to get out into the street to help the Christmasaurus, and with his dad and Santa tied up, it was all down to him!
He reached up and gave a hard tug on the cord. A whirry-buzzing sort of sound instantly filled the Trundles’ living room as the blades of the ceiling fan started to spin. There was an ear-bursting screech from above as the fan struggled to turn with the weight of William and his chair hanging beneath it, so he pulled on the cord a few more times, selecting the highest, fastest, most powerful fan speed.
“William!” cried Mr. Trundle. “What are you doing? The fan will chop you to pieces!”
“Doooon’t…woorreeeee…Daaaaaaaad!” yelled William as he was starting to spin around and around in the middle of the room. His escape plan was working! The ceiling fan started to gain momentum, picking up a tremendous amount of speed. As it got faster and faster, William started to feel the g-forces smooshing and squishing his face in all sorts of ways it hadn’t been smooshed or squished before.
“Hold on, son!” called Mr. Trundle worriedly, watching helplessly from the corner as William flew in great circles around the living room.
William was now whizzing around so fast that to everyone watching he just looked like a blurry smoosh whooshing around and around and around—like some sort of indoor Trundle tornado.
Suddenly, there was another noise. A horrid, awful, tearing, ripping noise!
“William! The rope!” cried Santa, who had managed to spit his beard out of his mouth.
The rope holding the net to the ceiling fan was slowly being sliced by the blades. With each spin, the rope was getting thinner and thinner. It wouldn’t hold much longer!
“It’s…oooookkaaaaay!” called William from somewhere within the spinning blur as he tried desperately not to throw up. “Thiiiiiis…is…theeeeeee…plaaaaaaan…AAAAAARGH!”
The blade sliced through the final threads of rope as if they didn’t even exist, and William found himself flying for the third time that night! He flew through the air, across the living room, over Santa’s head, and straight toward the window.
He crashed through the glass, landing with a great clatter in the snowy front yard. Peering through the heavy rope of the Hunter’s net, he caught sight of the Hunter and Growler, stalking up the street in the direction from which the roar had come.
William tried to wriggle free from the ropes, but he was stuck. The ropes weren’t just twisted and tangled. They were twangled! Twangled right around the wheels of his chair! It would take hours to untwangle it all, and the more he wriggled, the more twangled the ropes seemed to get!
Suddenly, William felt a rather odd sensation that everything was growing bigger. Or was he getting smaller? It was the same feeling he’d had on the rooftop just before falling down the chimney.
Santa was using his magic!
The ropes around William were now double the size…no, triple….Actually, they were ten times the size that they were before, and so were the holes in the net! Just big enough for William to wheel himself through!
He quickly lifted one of the now huge, heavy ropes off his lap and over his head. He was free! He wheeled himself out of the enormous net and saw a very small Santa dramatically somersaulting through the now enormous broken window. An even smaller-looking Mr. Trundle was running out of the even more enormous front door of their even more humongous wonky house!
“William!” the tiny, shrunken Mr. Trundle called to his tiny, shrunken son.
“Dad!” William cried as the massive world around them shrank—or perhaps they all grew. Either way, everything was back to normal
size in no more than three seconds.
William hugged his dad tighter than he’d ever hugged him before. He was so happy that his dad was safe and he still had his head!
“We’ve got to save the Christmasaurus!” Santa said urgently as another tremendous ROAR broke through the calm Christmas morning air.
The sun was still low in the sky, coating the snow-quilted white street in a fiery red glow. Santa, William, and Mr. Trundle hid behind the wonky hedge of the small front yard. They peeked over the top and saw the Hunter creeping down the middle of the snowy road, his rifle raised in his arms and his beady black eye stuck onto the telescopic sight. Growler was at his side, sniffing the fresh morning air, trying to pick up the scent of the Christmasaurus. Suddenly, he let out a bark. He’d spotted something. The Hunter had spotted it too.
Right at the far end of the street, way off in the distance, was the unmistakable silhouette of a dinosaur.
“Look! It’s the Christmasaurus!” whispered William worriedly.
“He must have followed the sleigh. That silly dippy twozzle no-brained dinosaur! I told him to stay in the North Pole!” Santa cursed.
The sun was rising behind the Christmasaurus, casting a long, dark, dinosaur-shaped shadow on the snow.
A mighty
came rolling down the street. The Christmasaurus was there, all right!
“I need to put an end to this once and for all,” said Mr. Trundle as he unexpectedly stood up and straightened his Christmas sweater.