Frosty Wind Made Moan

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Toby expected to fall. The old man had a strong grip on him, and Toby held on so tight to the old man, he thought his fingers might break, but he still felt as though he could fall at any second. But he didn't. Somehow, the wind also blew beneath them, pressing against Toby's feet, holding him up in the air as though he stood on solid ground. He still didn't relax his grip, though.

They flew higher and higher, the tower block falling away as they gained height, and they also travelled away from the block of flats where Toby lived. Everything rushed. The ground rushed beneath them. The air rushed about them. Clouds rushed by, peppering Toby's face with ice-cold droplets of water. And still they moved.

The old man's green dress rippled out behind them, along with his beard, moustaches and hair, like a wavy grey exhaust from a car on a cold morning. After a few seconds, Toby managed to gather enough courage to take a look around him and surprised himself by not becoming even more terrified. He knew nothing held him in the sky, but seeing that nothing beneath his feet should have had him squirming in terror.

Only, it didn't. Instead, he found it exciting, even though he knew he probably couldn't get hurt in a dream. Because, no matter how real it felt, the only explanation Toby could think of for this whole, mad thing was that he had fallen asleep after destroying the living room decorations. That he still laid on the sofa, cuddling the cushion to him, exhausted after crying so much.

He knew he would have to wake up, eventually, and, despite wanting to wake up only minutes earlier, he couldn't imagine missing this for the world. This was the kind of dream that people could turn into stories. Stories that some movie studio could make an animated movie from. Though he doubted he'd remember half of it when he woke up, or that he had the writing talent to type it into his computer.

"This is mental!" He tried talking normally, but the wind caught his words, carrying them away. The old man looked down towards him, so he shouted. "I said this is crazy! We're flying!"

"We are being carried by the wind." The old man didn't shout, but Toby heard every word. "There is nothing crazy about it."

Toby couldn't agree with that. The old man, this 'Father Christmas' might do this sort of thing all the time, but Toby had never experienced anything like it. Could never experience it, outside of a dream. He began to laugh, becoming giddy as he started to relax and enjoy the journey. A journey that had taken them far away from where he lived. Very far away.

There were no houses below them, now. No sign of anything. Even if there were fields under them, Toby supposed he should see something. A shadowy landscape, perhaps, or the lazy weaving of a country road. At this time in the evening, if it was still evening, Toby felt certain he should see the lights of cars still passing by below. Or of towns, or cities. Even villages. There were few places devoid of light these days.

Even as he thought that, something appeared from behind a cloud up ahead. Automatically, he lifted his legs as the top of a mountain flashed past, the old man's scuffed brown boots touching and tripping across the ground as they passed, before settling back to standing on nothing. Toby's head whipped around to see a cloud of snow falling back to the mountaintop, disturbed by their passing.

And still the old man held the holly and mistletoe wand high in the air. Still that incredible wind spun around them, tugging at their clothing and keeping them in the sky. Away to the side, Toby saw another mountain pass by, lower, more humped, but still a mountain. He had never seen a mountain. Not in real life.

"Where are we going?" His voice sounded so strange as he shouted up to the old man's wrinkled face. As though the wind that surrounded them blew the words around and around. "I've never seen a place without lights before."