The old man wiped the blood away from his mouth and prepared to do battle again.
His white beard was stained red, and underneath his red jacket, he could feel the pain of fresh bruises; the result of blows to his body by his enemy. Wearily, he dragged himself to his feet.
St Nicholas, or Santa Claus - just two of the names by which he was known - painfully drew himself up and faced his foe. He and his would-be assailant were on the roof of a small bungalow in a remote part of Greenland. Santa had become stranded here when he had suddenly lost control of his sleigh, which had fallen from the sky like a wounded comet, presents flying in all directions. In the chaos that had ensued, the reindeer that drew Santa’s sleigh had bolted - with Rudolph, their leader unable to control them - and now Santa faced the wrath of the anti-Christmas Hobgoblin.
It was this goblin that now grinned at his injured enemy, its fangs glinting, as it flexed its distended sinews in preparation for the final kill. "Come on Santa," it hissed as it pointed its talons towards the saintly present giver, "Where’s your claws?!"
Quick as a flash, it raked its own claws across Santa’s plump stomach, and the old man’s red uniform was stained a deeper red by his blood. Santa coughed more blood and cursed himself for allowing an ambush like this to happen. All these years, safe in the magical protection of his sleigh, and that of his workshop – they had made him careless. He had taken his own safety in the power of Christmas for granted; and now he was paying the price. Hence, a demon from the edges of reality, which pray on what is good and pure, having sensed his vulnerability, had attacked. And now he faced the possibility that the magic of Christmas would die.
Here.
Now.
With him, this night.
Santa peered through the driving snow, attempting to spot his antagonist.
Suddenly he felt the gut wrenching sensation of the goblin's claws as they again cut into his stomach. Red fluid sprayed across the roof, instantly freezing in the sub-zero temperatures. As he fell and slid down the steep bungalow roof, Santa saw a huge black shape, blacker even than the ebony sky, rising over him. There was a throbbing in his head, and even though his enemy did not did not apply the finishing blow as yet, his vision was blurring and he knew the end was near.
Unconsciously, he reached into his pocket.
Wait.
A silence hung in the air. No sound could be heard except the howling wind. The goblin prepared to make the final killer lunge. He had temporarily lost sight of the old man, but no matter. Soon his triumph would be complete. Just time for some final gloating.
"Hey, Christmas", he snarled. "There’ll be no presents for the kids this year!"
The goblin stopped and listened. No reply. The wind howled again. The goblin looked around him, taking in the empty white landscape, haunted and desolate against the black sky.
"Little Johnny won’t get his train set, because Santa’s lying dead on some godforsaken roof!" snarled the goblin. "What do you think of that, Christmas?!"
Suddenly, the goblin found itself face to face with the old saint. Santa’s teeth were gritted, and his eyes were burning with fierce determination as he snarled in reply. "That’s FATHER Christmas to you, PUNK!!"
With a yell he charged the hobgoblin, which was so startled it was knocked off its feet. Falling together, they crashed against the tall, soot encrusted frame of the chimney, which rose from the snow-covered roof to become almost invisible against the black sky. Santa recovered quickly, drew himself back and punched the goblin in the jaw. The demon grunted but was unhurt. Yet it hesitated, giving the old man enough time to spring backwards and recover his balance on top of the roof. For a moment the protagonists faced each other in the swirling snow.
The goblin sneered and bared its fangs. It had to finish the old man soon, before the midnight hour struck, and the onset of Christmas would give him power. Slowly, and threateningly, it unfurled the viscous claws in one of its hands; then it bared the talons in its other -
What the hell is this!?
Slowly, a look of disbelief etched into its features, it brought forth the small object that Santa had pushed into its paw during their last scuffle. It was a brightly coloured package, all tied up with ribbons. The demon gaped, and looked up at Santa; who returned its stare, his eyes almost bulging.
And the demon roared with satanic laughter.
"Trying to buy me off with presents old man?!" it guffawed, "this is the last present you’ll ever give-"
But the monster was forced to stop speaking, because at that moment a premonition filled its thoughts; a premonition that filled it with dread.
Something was coming.
And a second later, the unmistakable sound of sleigh bells drifted down to them, tantalizingly playing above the howling wind.
Horrified, the goblin jutted its face towards the sky; it knew that sound. "No!" it screamed "not yet!"
But it was too late.
Because across the sky it came, trailing stars in its wake. And the air was filled with the sound of bells, reindeer hoofs, magic and child-like wonder. Santa’s sleigh had returned.
Within a second it was overhead, swooping towards them and dwarfing the tiny cottage on which they stood. The reindeer called out, "Father!" as they roared overhead.
Instantly Santa produced a grappling hook that fired a steel cable into the underbelly of his slay. "See? What did I tell you", he yelled above the snow, the wind and the sound of the sleigh, "It’s FATHER Christmas – get it right!"
"You’ll be Father DEADmas in a minute!!" roared the demon as it sprang forward to make the final kill – too late.
Santa was already sky-born, the magnetic reel at the end of the cable drawing him towards the departing sleigh. The hobgoblin howled in anguish as it crashed against the roof and fell towards the deep snowdrifts that clung to the side of the bungalow. With lightening reflexes it dug its long claws into the edge of the roof to arrest its fall.
Slowly, grudgingly, it drew itself up to stare after the departing sleigh.
A horrible feeling of disappointment settled over the demon. The greatest opportunity it could have hoped for was within its grasp, and it had failed.
How could it fail to kill a weak old man? How could it not complete the job it started? It had reckoned without Santa’s surprisingly viscous fighting spirit, sure, but all the same, this should have been an easy job. And now it would never get a better chance to fulfill its function, which was to destroy what was good in this world.
It sighed with demonic regret as it again brought forth the small package Santa had pushed into its hand as a distraction. And all it had to show for its efforts was this lousy –
Wait a minute.
It frowned and shook the package. Was it making some kind of ticking noise –
The darkness in that remote, northern territory was suddenly subsided by the blinding light and fury of a huge explosion.
The Yuletide Sleigh, which had previously been streaking away from the scene at the speed of sound, halted and wheeled around to face the inferno.
What had once been an isolated bungalow was now a volcanic inferno, as the demon that had attempted to destroy the personification of Christmas was dispatched violently back to hell.
Rudolph, the head reindeer, regarded the fire for a moment, the flames reflecting in his eyes, and seeming to bring a response from his glowing nose. Then he rose above the other reindeer and turned to face his master.
"Father", he said gravely, "Father Christmas, what have you done?"
"What I had to do", replied Santa Claus without hesitation. He wiped more blood away from his mouth, though his body was already healing under the magical protection of his sleigh. "That creature was evil incarnate. It could not be allowed to continue its incursion on this reality."
He sighed and sagged in his seat; "though I realise that I’ve crossed a line that was drawn for me thousands of years ago. There may be repercussions from this night."
He looked Rudolph in the eye and sighed again, "God help us my friend," he intoned sorrowfully, "God help us one and all."
Then he took up the reins and his tone changed. "Come my children, "he roared, "There is no time now to ponder on what is past. The children are waiting for their presents. Let’s fly!"
And the magic sleigh streaked towards its destination as the spirit of Christmas spread across the land.
