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Santa Baby

Dedicated to

“Nickole!” My father bellowed from the hallway, waking me up on Tuesday morning. I remained in my room, my lime green walls surrounding me, yawning, and then reluctantly getting out of bed. Last night had been a blur. I’d attended a Christmas party with some of my best friends. “It was…amazing,” I thought, remembering the previous night.  

My snowy-white Christmas tree stood perpendicular to my bed, undecorated. My friends always asked why I didn’t put ornaments on the tree, but for me, there was a beauty in simplicity. On top of my bed lay a red and green striped mattress.

                “Yes, Dad?” I eventually responded to him. I could almost picture Dad’s smiling blue eyes and white beard through my wrapping-paper-wrapped door. Yeah, I guess you could say I like Christmas.

                “Hurry up, your mother and I need to talk to you about something!” He laughed his jolly laugh, and I chuckled to myself, throwing on a pair of red skinny jeans and a sequined green tank top. I balanced my attire with silver bangles, and walked through a door to get to the bathroom.

                Inside, it was beach-themed, a warm change from the Christmas-bomb in my room. I was frantically rushing, being the curious girl I am. Dad and Mom have never asked to talk to me like this before. What was it about?

                I used the restroom, swiped mascara on my dark lashes, combed my hair, leaving it curly enough to demolish frizziness, and washed my face. Then, I sprinted downstairs, wondering what in the world was worth waking me up about.

                There was my dad, sitting at our wooden kitchen table, hot chocolate in his hand. My mom was across from him, holding a chocolate muffin in her hand. Her short white hair was an old lady style, but Mom’s eyes still radiated with youth and liveliness. She waved me over, looking more enthusiastic than ever before. I was apprehensive, because she was excited a lot.

                “Nicki!” She squealed with delight. I cautiously walked across the wood flooring to sit beside my mother, noticing Dad’s eyes lacked the same shine as my mother’s.

                Dad cleared his throat. “We have to tell you something.” Oh great, what was it? There had never been many secrets in my family. I’d known about my dad’s job forever, and it wasn’t like I had anyone to tell. All of my friends already knew our “little” secret. They did work for him, after all.

                “Nicki, do you know how Dad and I met?” My mother grasped Dad’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

                “Not really. All I know is that Grandpa wanted to retire or something….” I was puzzled. Why were they telling me this? Wasn’t there something important they were going to talk to me about?

                “Well,” Mom continued, “Your Grandpa had been doing Dad’s job for almost a thousand years. He was getting tired of the job: the long hours, the demanding work. So, like the Santa Claus before him, your great grandpa, he decided to quit.”

                Dad nodded along as she told the story, and took her place as narrator. “So I, being the only child of Grandma and Grandpa, had to become Santa Claus. However, I got lonely with only my elves for company. So I set off in search to find your mother.”

                I raised my eyebrows. Why couldn’t he just have an elf as a wife? It wasn’t like they were little people, after all. No, no, humans have it all wrong. Elves are the same size, and exterior, as you and I. However, their nimble fingers, sharp (literally) ears, and ability to do magic differ from humans.

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Santa Baby~Prologue


Emma Stoneas Nickole Claus
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