Hey now. I wrote a story that appeared in a book for charity. That is to say that the proceeds of the book went to charity, and NOT that my being included was an act of charity. The charity in question is AWARE and they do great work for people with depression.
http://www.aware.ie/
I've posted my tiny contribution below.
Santa’s Borrowed Suit
by Giles Brody
http://www.aware.ie/
I've posted my tiny contribution below.
Santa’s Borrowed Suit
by Giles Brody
Santa came to our house on Christmas Eve looking for his suit.
Daddy told me he had borrowed the suit for his work social. I was worried that
Daddy would forget to return the suit and that Santa would be forced to go
around the world delivering presents to the boys and girls with only his beard
to keep him warm. This worried me.
On the days before Christmas Day I kept looking in Mammy and
Daddy’s room and every day Santa’s suit would still be there hanging in a
wrinkly heap in a bag on the back of the door. What was Daddy playing at? Did
he want Santa to catch a cold? Did he care about all the boys and girls in the
world getting their presents? Maybe he’s jealous because Santa doesn’t give him
presents anymore.
I remember asking Daddy when Santa stopped coming to him. He
said Santa stopped when he was twelve. I asked why? Daddy said it was something
to do with letting the younger children enjoy Christmas but I think it’s
because Daddy was bold and Santa put him on his naughty list. But then why
would Santa loan him his suit for the work social?
That and a lot more questions were buzzing around my brain as I tried to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. Mummy and Daddy had gone to the pub to meet the neighbours. It was a tradition and it meant that none of the parents would disturb Santa while he was delivering presents. I didn’t want to disturb Santa either, but I did want to see him so I hid behind the sofa with a few stuffed bears for company and my blue rug in case it got cold. At midnight there was not no sound of hooves but there was a tap tap tap on the window followed a smashing sound. A minute later Santa had climbed in through our window and was standing in our living room.
I knew Daddy had his suit so I knew Santa wouldn’t look like he did in pictures. I didn’t expect him to be wearing a black tracksuit and a black wooly hat. He was fat but not Santa fat and his beard was black with flecks of white. Aha, I thought. Clearly snow from the North Pole.
That and a lot more questions were buzzing around my brain as I tried to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. Mummy and Daddy had gone to the pub to meet the neighbours. It was a tradition and it meant that none of the parents would disturb Santa while he was delivering presents. I didn’t want to disturb Santa either, but I did want to see him so I hid behind the sofa with a few stuffed bears for company and my blue rug in case it got cold. At midnight there was not no sound of hooves but there was a tap tap tap on the window followed a smashing sound. A minute later Santa had climbed in through our window and was standing in our living room.
I knew Daddy had his suit so I knew Santa wouldn’t look like he did in pictures. I didn’t expect him to be wearing a black tracksuit and a black wooly hat. He was fat but not Santa fat and his beard was black with flecks of white. Aha, I thought. Clearly snow from the North Pole.
Santa had a lamp on his head and was picking up our
television when I walked into the living room.
“Santa, your suit isn’t under the telly silly. It’s in a bag in Mammy and Daddy’s room.”
Santa froze, hoping I didn’t see him. He looked pale and his lips were trembling. I’d realized then that I’d given him a big fright so I said sorry.
“I didn’t mean to scare you Santa.”
“Santa?” Santa said.
“You don’t look like Santa but that’s because Daddy has your suit in a bag. When you put it on you get fat and your beard will turn white”.
“Santa, your suit isn’t under the telly silly. It’s in a bag in Mammy and Daddy’s room.”
Santa froze, hoping I didn’t see him. He looked pale and his lips were trembling. I’d realized then that I’d given him a big fright so I said sorry.
“I didn’t mean to scare you Santa.”
“Santa?” Santa said.
“You don’t look like Santa but that’s because Daddy has your suit in a bag. When you put it on you get fat and your beard will turn white”.
Santa shook his head slowly and smiled.
“I’ll go and get your costume from Mammy and Daddy’s room. While I’m gone you should eat some of the treats we left out to help fatten you up.”
Santa nodded. He wasn’t jolly like the Santa in the shopping
center. He must have been tired from travelling all round the world. By the
time I’d returned with his costume, Santa was trying to climb back out the
window.
“Santa, don’t go!”
“Santa, don’t go!”
The sash on the window came down and bumped Santa on the
head. I ran over to see if he was alright.
“Santa, there’s red coming from your head!”
Santa nodded and made a shhh gesture. He thought Mammy and Daddy were in the house and he mustn’t have wanted to disturb them. He really was the nicest man in the world!
“Santa, there’s red coming from your head!”
Santa nodded and made a shhh gesture. He thought Mammy and Daddy were in the house and he mustn’t have wanted to disturb them. He really was the nicest man in the world!
Santa said he’d dress himself in his suit on so long as I
stayed quiet. He wobbled about as he put it on over his black tracksuit. I
asked him lots of questions about the North Pole. He said he’d answer them so
long as I was quiet. Sometimes for fun I’d start off asking a question very
quietly and then YELL AT THE END. It gave Santa such a fright.
A few minutes later, Mammy and Daddy returned from the pub.
Daddy was so happy to see Santa that he gave him a big hug into the wall. Santa
fell on the ground and must have hurt his head because the next thing I knew,
Daddy was sitting on Santa’s head and calling for help on his phone. Daddy told
Mammy to bring me to bed. “Goodnight Santa!” I said sleepily as Mammy picked me
up and brought me upstairs. “I’m glad you got your suit back!”
Special thanks to the Liberties Press and Carol Tobin.
