Santa Claus was flat on his back, staring up at...nothing. Darkness surrounded him. He knew his eyes were open, yet all he saw was black. No dark blue night sky above, just blackness. He turned his head to the right, then to the left. The same. Just black.
“I must be dreaming,” he thought, yet he felt awake. Sort of. Awake and asleep at the same time. He also felt weightless, which was actually kind of nice. Santa was getting tired of lugging all that weight around.
Without the usual effort and strain Santa sat up. “Hey! I can see myself. Excellent.” It was true. He could see the end of his long white beard which rested upon the mound of his large, round belly. The red of his suit, with its bright white trim, stood in stark, colorful contrast to the black space around him. Only his black boots seemed to get lost in their surroundings.
“What am I sitting on?” Santa wondered. He put a hand down, felt no floor or anything at all beneath him, but there he sat, supported by what?
Santa decided to stand. Again, he didn’t feel the usual strain of lifting his weight.
“Maybe I’m in outer space,” he thought. “Those reindeer really get off course sometimes. But how do we get back? And where are they?”
There was no sign of any reindeer around. No sight of them galloping in the distance, no sound of them bickering about who got them lost.
That’s when Santa noticed there were no sounds at all. Silence. Complete, utter silence. Not something Santa remembered hearing, or not hearing. His compound at the North Pole was always very noisy, what with elves making toys all year, banging their little hammers and talking and laughing as they worked; the clomping of reindeer hooves in their stable; Mrs. Claus swearing at him about something he’d done or said he was going to do but hadn’t.
In the place Santa was now there was nothing. No sound at all. The silence made his head hurt.
He wondered if he would hear his own voice if he said something. So he spoke.
“Hello,” he said to the void. He could hear his voice so he thought if there was someone or something out there, it would respond.
The void did not answer.
“Hello,” he said again in his loudest, boomiest, Santa Claus full of piss and vinegar on Christmas Eve voice.
No response.
“Swell,” Santa said out loud. “I don’t know where those reindeer are, but when I find them, that’s it. This is the last straw. They leave me stranded here in the middle of nowhere. I’m probably in some damn cave in Norway or something. They know I hate spelunking.” Santa looked around. “Who the hell am I talking to?” He sighed.
Santa turned around as slow as molasses in January. If there was something out there he didn’t want to miss it.
But all he saw was a dark void that stretched endlessly in all directions.
Or so Santa thought at first. Then he noticed a pinpoint of light a great distance from him. He also thought he heard a sound, low and faint, like what he would hear as a child when he held a sea shell to his ear on trips to the beach.
“Damn tinnitus,” he said. Then he squinted at the distant speck that seemed to be growing brighter and getting closer. “Is that really a light or am I imagining things?” Santa wondered.
He turned away from the light. “What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered. He rested his chin upon his chest and stared at where the ground should be. “Is this some sort of dream? Or a nightmare? Or maybe a hallucination? Did Blitzen spike my eggnog again? I warned him about that.”
Santa lifted his eyes to where the sky should be. His great white moustache and beard almost hid his frown. “If I’m drunk or high, I’ve got to come down and figure out a way out of here. And I’ve got to find those reindeer. If they’re still around.” He turned his head toward the light. “Maybe that’s them.”
The light was no longer a speck but now was a large round beam like the light at the front of a speeding train. And the sound, the whooshing noise, was getting louder.
“Blitzen and the gang should be here soon.” He nodded but still frowned. “Yep. Then we can go. Uh-hmm. We’ve probably missed Thanksgiving dinner. Vixen will be pissed. Mrs. Claus won’t be too happy with me, either.”
The light and the noise were closing in like a jet coming in for a landing.
“Yep. We’ll be able to go home.” Santa nodded again. “I just want to go home.”
With great speed the darkness that had surrounded Santa was replaced by the light. It was so bright that Santa had to squint at first, then hold up a hand to cover his eyes. The noise was no longer the gentle sound of the surf coming. It was now an ear splitting thunder like a thousand rockets exploding.
“I don’t think it’s the reindeer,” Santa said but he could no longer hear his voice. He tried to move, but found he was frozen in place.
“Damn it,” he thought. “What do they say? Get away from the light? Or go to the light?”
It didn’t matter.
The light came to Santa Claus.
To be continued...
“I must be dreaming,” he thought, yet he felt awake. Sort of. Awake and asleep at the same time. He also felt weightless, which was actually kind of nice. Santa was getting tired of lugging all that weight around.
Without the usual effort and strain Santa sat up. “Hey! I can see myself. Excellent.” It was true. He could see the end of his long white beard which rested upon the mound of his large, round belly. The red of his suit, with its bright white trim, stood in stark, colorful contrast to the black space around him. Only his black boots seemed to get lost in their surroundings.
“What am I sitting on?” Santa wondered. He put a hand down, felt no floor or anything at all beneath him, but there he sat, supported by what?
Santa decided to stand. Again, he didn’t feel the usual strain of lifting his weight.
“Maybe I’m in outer space,” he thought. “Those reindeer really get off course sometimes. But how do we get back? And where are they?”
There was no sign of any reindeer around. No sight of them galloping in the distance, no sound of them bickering about who got them lost.
That’s when Santa noticed there were no sounds at all. Silence. Complete, utter silence. Not something Santa remembered hearing, or not hearing. His compound at the North Pole was always very noisy, what with elves making toys all year, banging their little hammers and talking and laughing as they worked; the clomping of reindeer hooves in their stable; Mrs. Claus swearing at him about something he’d done or said he was going to do but hadn’t.
In the place Santa was now there was nothing. No sound at all. The silence made his head hurt.
He wondered if he would hear his own voice if he said something. So he spoke.
“Hello,” he said to the void. He could hear his voice so he thought if there was someone or something out there, it would respond.
The void did not answer.
“Hello,” he said again in his loudest, boomiest, Santa Claus full of piss and vinegar on Christmas Eve voice.
No response.
“Swell,” Santa said out loud. “I don’t know where those reindeer are, but when I find them, that’s it. This is the last straw. They leave me stranded here in the middle of nowhere. I’m probably in some damn cave in Norway or something. They know I hate spelunking.” Santa looked around. “Who the hell am I talking to?” He sighed.
Santa turned around as slow as molasses in January. If there was something out there he didn’t want to miss it.
But all he saw was a dark void that stretched endlessly in all directions.
Or so Santa thought at first. Then he noticed a pinpoint of light a great distance from him. He also thought he heard a sound, low and faint, like what he would hear as a child when he held a sea shell to his ear on trips to the beach.
“Damn tinnitus,” he said. Then he squinted at the distant speck that seemed to be growing brighter and getting closer. “Is that really a light or am I imagining things?” Santa wondered.
He turned away from the light. “What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered. He rested his chin upon his chest and stared at where the ground should be. “Is this some sort of dream? Or a nightmare? Or maybe a hallucination? Did Blitzen spike my eggnog again? I warned him about that.”
Santa lifted his eyes to where the sky should be. His great white moustache and beard almost hid his frown. “If I’m drunk or high, I’ve got to come down and figure out a way out of here. And I’ve got to find those reindeer. If they’re still around.” He turned his head toward the light. “Maybe that’s them.”
The light was no longer a speck but now was a large round beam like the light at the front of a speeding train. And the sound, the whooshing noise, was getting louder.
“Blitzen and the gang should be here soon.” He nodded but still frowned. “Yep. Then we can go. Uh-hmm. We’ve probably missed Thanksgiving dinner. Vixen will be pissed. Mrs. Claus won’t be too happy with me, either.”
The light and the noise were closing in like a jet coming in for a landing.
“Yep. We’ll be able to go home.” Santa nodded again. “I just want to go home.”
With great speed the darkness that had surrounded Santa was replaced by the light. It was so bright that Santa had to squint at first, then hold up a hand to cover his eyes. The noise was no longer the gentle sound of the surf coming. It was now an ear splitting thunder like a thousand rockets exploding.
“I don’t think it’s the reindeer,” Santa said but he could no longer hear his voice. He tried to move, but found he was frozen in place.
“Damn it,” he thought. “What do they say? Get away from the light? Or go to the light?”
It didn’t matter.
The light came to Santa Claus.
To be continued...
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