Post by melodierivers on Dec 13, 2021 15:56:18 GMT
Madzistrale slumped in the sofa, exhaling a deep breath of exhaustion.
"My car's trunk is full."
Clara, a tall, strongly built woman, whose kind dark brown eyes and braided silky raven hair softened her rough appearance, looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"You're not doing your cardio training again, are you?"
Madzistrale stared down her friend, whom unflinchingly held it.
"Tom's not doing any," she finally said, giving a nod in the direction of a tall and slim young man, who was busy hauling on his shoulders a big red bag.
"Tom's not 50 pounds overweight, doesn't exhaust himself after half-dozen toy bags, and doesn't have a muffin top threatening to burst the seams of his bustier," Clara countered.
Madzistrale stared even harder, blushing hotly under the observations. Clara gave in, smiled kindly, and then turned to face the living room, where three more men were pretending to not having heard the conversation.
"Okay, so everyone has copies of the plan?"
Gabzryel, a short man whose entire appearance would have completely passed incognito hasn't been for his messy raven hair with a wide strip of white hair across it, raised his hand.
"The microphone is fully charged, and my Santa Claus costume and wigs are ready."
Alan and Bruno, looking exactly what one would expect from a mechanic and a blacksmith, raised their hands.
"Prepped and ready for a hard evening of work. All the gears and bags are ready, ma'am!"
Clara smiled, and turned to Tom as he re-entered the room.
"Car's loaded," he simply said, flapping away the dirt from his eternally dirty jeans.
"If Mad's isn't hopelessly exhausted, we can then roll out. My team has prepared everything for 15:30," Clara said, smirking mischievously as Madzistrale blew her a raspberry.
"Operation Three Kings... Here we go!" the six friends cheered.
Jonathan held his parents' hands as they walked to the decorated warehouse. Besides them, and ahead in the entrance, were families, couples, individuals, all like Jonathan and his own family. All holding the invitation, all withholding their hopes until actually inside.
"So what will you ask Santa, Jon?" his mother cheerfully asked him.
Jonathan couldn't answer. What could he ask? There was so many things he heard his parents wish for, so many nights he would hear stifled cries from his mama and papa.
"Well, at least we'll have a nice cake," his mother hurried to continue.
"But it's not what you wish for," Jonathan said.
His parents' eyes grew sad... as they always did when they realized that their 9 years-old boy understood more than he should.
"No. But it's better than nothing; and these people do their best," his father said softly.
Jonathan nodded. A girl's voice cried out to him, and he turned to see his best friend beaming of joice.
"So who wants to go next?" a tall built woman in a Miss Santa Claus costume asked, scanning the room with her kind dark eyes matching her braided raven hair underneath her hat. As Jonathan was closest, she turned to him with a big smile, and suggested playfully: "You're the closest..."
"No... no, it's okay... I'll let the others go first..."
Miss Santa Claus gently took his hand.
"A very kind thought; hence why I think everyone agrees it's your turn."
Jonathan looked back for some sort of help, but his classmates just cheered him on as the tall woman led him to the makeshift North Pole Santa's Workshop tent.
"Ho ho ho, merry Christmas! How can I serve you, young master?" Santa Claus merrily asked, setting aside the toy train he was painting, to sit upon the chair.
Jonathan looked around, wondering whether he should point out that Santa Claus shouldn't be in his mid-thirties as the current one seated in front of him was. Instead, he shyly spoke out:
"I don't believe in Santa Claus."
"Oh? Why not?" Santa asked, mildly insulted. "Ho ho," he added for good measure.
Jonathan shifted on his feet.
"Because he never made any miracles to my family."
A pause. Then Santa shifted on his seat to make place, then spoke softly:
"Come sit here. What's your name?"
Jonathan sat, but he still looked disinterested.
"Aren't you supposed to know?"
"Of course not!" Santa cried indignantly. "That would be a serious breach of your right to privacy, something not even Santa... euh, I mean me, can breach."
Santa looked over Jonathan.
"And you're way too serious for your age and your own good," he added.
Jonathan shrugged.
"There isn't just Santa Claus... I mean, me, that can grant wishes and create miracles, you know," Santa continued. "But I'll tell you only after you tell me your name. I can't write on my gifts: "From Santa to Who Cannot Be Named". That would bring a lot of confusion to my elvish helpers."
Jonathan snickered, and he gave in.
"Jonathan."
"Alright, Jonathan. Do you know the story of the Three Kings of Orient, who travelled far and wide to give gifts to a poor family who've just brought a baby into the world?"
"Yes..." Jonathan said hesitantly.
"Now, let's pretend there are Three Kings of Kansas. What would you ask of them?" Santa pressed on.
Jonathan thought hard, trying to figure out what kind of gifts these strange kings could travel far and wide with. He finally spoke softly:
"I wish for my parents to stop crying at night."
Santa's eyes teared up, and he leaned over to hug the young boy.
"I promise you that your parents won't cry from now on. My elves will make sure of that."
"Wasn't it the Three Kings of Kansas?" Jonathan wondered.
"Yes, they collaborate together."
Jonathan stayed silent, trying to imagine the scene from what he remembered. Santa nudged him.
"Now, your turn. You made a wish for your parents. Now you've gotta wish for your own gift. What do you want?"
Jonathan thought hard; he then smiled dreamily.
"The little carousel toy at the hardware store."
Santa smiled wistfully.
"The one with the horses, or the wheel with the carriage going up and down?"
"The horses... it also makes music..."
"Oh, I know which one you mean..." Santa daydreamed alongside Jonathan. He then stirred, and gave another hug to Jonathan, before ruffling his hair. "Then, Jonathan, tonight you will see how miracles can happen."
Jonathan smiled weakly, wondering whether he should believe it, and he took the hand of the kind tall woman who led him out and back to his parents, asking for an address to them for sending out a gift certificate.
Alan climbed down the ladder, and stood back proudly.
"Light it up!"
Tom, further down the front yard, pressed on a switch, the solar-powered generator started up, and the small house's facade became illuminated of red, blue, green, and yellow.
Madzistrale and Bruno scanned the various boxes in his pickup bedding.
"I knew the kids would have wanted those awesome carousel toys!" she said, finally finding the box. "You've got the rest?"
"Yep," Bruno acquiesced, hauling two heavy bag on his shoulders. "Let's hurry, we still got a good twenty houses to do, and it's nearly supper time."
"Well, at least nothing will be too cold; the timing was perfect!" Madzistrale huffed and puffed as she jumped down the bedding.
Another house at their right became festively lit up.
"That's what we're talking about," Madzistrale proudly said.
Bruno heaved as he laid the two bags safely beneath the entranceway's roof; he then picked a card from his back pocket, and stringed it to the doorknob.
"Okay, quickly now," he said, running with Madzistrale back to the pickup.
"Gab is saying that the 232 Spruce wants a teddy bear," Madzistrale announced as she sat in the passenger seat. "And candies, of course."
"They're so demanding," Bruno joked.
"Well, let's be grateful it's not myrrh, incense and gold," Madzistrale joked in return.
"What in the world...?"
Jonathan's parents slowed down as they drove into their driveway, staring at their brightly lit house.
"Everyone's the same... Well, almost," his mother marvelled.
They got out of the car, and walked slowly to their entranceway, noticing the big bags.
"There's a card," his mother realized, picking it out of the doorknob as his father began unstringing one bag.
Jonathan's father gasped with joyful surprise as he took out various containers of already prepared food, still hot. There were also clothes, wine and juice, homemade cocoa mix, a few small gift boxes... and Jonathan laid eyes upon a box. A box with the horse carousel he saw at the hardware store.
"A money check is in there," his mother said, picking it out of the car envellope, trying hard not to let her emotions show. "A check of 5 grand. Honey, this will help with the bills!"
Jonathan's family hugged together in tears, this time of joy; not knowing many more families in their sector did the same that evening.
The fire cackling, the holiday music playing, Madzistrale, Tom, Gabzryel, Clara, Alan and Bruno settled upon the couches, a steaming cup of spiced wine in their hands.
"Cheers!" they clanked their cups together.
"Finally... We've been able to do it," Madzistrale sighed. She looked fearfully at Gabzryel. "How much did it took out from your savings?"
Gabzryel snorted.
"With my family's fortune, that was nothing. Beside, we have everything we need. They don't. It wasn't that hard of a sacrifice."
"I wish we could have seen their faces. They were already so happy just to leave the warehouse with the Christmas cake, and the leftovers of the buffet..." Clara mused.
"And poor kids..." Gabzryel sighed. "Some of them were way too young to be so worried already..."
"Well, not for some time," Tom interjected. "We've done well, gang. This was worth the long preparations."
"In that case..."
The friends clanked once again their cups and yelled together, knowing many families echoed with joy and conviction, the following:
"Merry Christmas!"
"My car's trunk is full."
Clara, a tall, strongly built woman, whose kind dark brown eyes and braided silky raven hair softened her rough appearance, looked at her with raised eyebrows.
"You're not doing your cardio training again, are you?"
Madzistrale stared down her friend, whom unflinchingly held it.
"Tom's not doing any," she finally said, giving a nod in the direction of a tall and slim young man, who was busy hauling on his shoulders a big red bag.
"Tom's not 50 pounds overweight, doesn't exhaust himself after half-dozen toy bags, and doesn't have a muffin top threatening to burst the seams of his bustier," Clara countered.
Madzistrale stared even harder, blushing hotly under the observations. Clara gave in, smiled kindly, and then turned to face the living room, where three more men were pretending to not having heard the conversation.
"Okay, so everyone has copies of the plan?"
Gabzryel, a short man whose entire appearance would have completely passed incognito hasn't been for his messy raven hair with a wide strip of white hair across it, raised his hand.
"The microphone is fully charged, and my Santa Claus costume and wigs are ready."
Alan and Bruno, looking exactly what one would expect from a mechanic and a blacksmith, raised their hands.
"Prepped and ready for a hard evening of work. All the gears and bags are ready, ma'am!"
Clara smiled, and turned to Tom as he re-entered the room.
"Car's loaded," he simply said, flapping away the dirt from his eternally dirty jeans.
"If Mad's isn't hopelessly exhausted, we can then roll out. My team has prepared everything for 15:30," Clara said, smirking mischievously as Madzistrale blew her a raspberry.
"Operation Three Kings... Here we go!" the six friends cheered.
**********************
The Three Kings N.P.O. invites poor and in-need citizens and families to a free event! Join us on the 24th December 2017, 15h30, to give your wishes to Santa Claus, enjoy the free banquet, and return home with a Christmas cake log. Don't miss this one-of-a-kind opportunity.
Jonathan held his parents' hands as they walked to the decorated warehouse. Besides them, and ahead in the entrance, were families, couples, individuals, all like Jonathan and his own family. All holding the invitation, all withholding their hopes until actually inside.
"So what will you ask Santa, Jon?" his mother cheerfully asked him.
Jonathan couldn't answer. What could he ask? There was so many things he heard his parents wish for, so many nights he would hear stifled cries from his mama and papa.
"Well, at least we'll have a nice cake," his mother hurried to continue.
"But it's not what you wish for," Jonathan said.
His parents' eyes grew sad... as they always did when they realized that their 9 years-old boy understood more than he should.
"No. But it's better than nothing; and these people do their best," his father said softly.
Jonathan nodded. A girl's voice cried out to him, and he turned to see his best friend beaming of joice.
*
"So who wants to go next?" a tall built woman in a Miss Santa Claus costume asked, scanning the room with her kind dark eyes matching her braided raven hair underneath her hat. As Jonathan was closest, she turned to him with a big smile, and suggested playfully: "You're the closest..."
"No... no, it's okay... I'll let the others go first..."
Miss Santa Claus gently took his hand.
"A very kind thought; hence why I think everyone agrees it's your turn."
Jonathan looked back for some sort of help, but his classmates just cheered him on as the tall woman led him to the makeshift North Pole Santa's Workshop tent.
"Ho ho ho, merry Christmas! How can I serve you, young master?" Santa Claus merrily asked, setting aside the toy train he was painting, to sit upon the chair.
Jonathan looked around, wondering whether he should point out that Santa Claus shouldn't be in his mid-thirties as the current one seated in front of him was. Instead, he shyly spoke out:
"I don't believe in Santa Claus."
"Oh? Why not?" Santa asked, mildly insulted. "Ho ho," he added for good measure.
Jonathan shifted on his feet.
"Because he never made any miracles to my family."
A pause. Then Santa shifted on his seat to make place, then spoke softly:
"Come sit here. What's your name?"
Jonathan sat, but he still looked disinterested.
"Aren't you supposed to know?"
"Of course not!" Santa cried indignantly. "That would be a serious breach of your right to privacy, something not even Santa... euh, I mean me, can breach."
Santa looked over Jonathan.
"And you're way too serious for your age and your own good," he added.
Jonathan shrugged.
"There isn't just Santa Claus... I mean, me, that can grant wishes and create miracles, you know," Santa continued. "But I'll tell you only after you tell me your name. I can't write on my gifts: "From Santa to Who Cannot Be Named". That would bring a lot of confusion to my elvish helpers."
Jonathan snickered, and he gave in.
"Jonathan."
"Alright, Jonathan. Do you know the story of the Three Kings of Orient, who travelled far and wide to give gifts to a poor family who've just brought a baby into the world?"
"Yes..." Jonathan said hesitantly.
"Now, let's pretend there are Three Kings of Kansas. What would you ask of them?" Santa pressed on.
Jonathan thought hard, trying to figure out what kind of gifts these strange kings could travel far and wide with. He finally spoke softly:
"I wish for my parents to stop crying at night."
Santa's eyes teared up, and he leaned over to hug the young boy.
"I promise you that your parents won't cry from now on. My elves will make sure of that."
"Wasn't it the Three Kings of Kansas?" Jonathan wondered.
"Yes, they collaborate together."
Jonathan stayed silent, trying to imagine the scene from what he remembered. Santa nudged him.
"Now, your turn. You made a wish for your parents. Now you've gotta wish for your own gift. What do you want?"
Jonathan thought hard; he then smiled dreamily.
"The little carousel toy at the hardware store."
Santa smiled wistfully.
"The one with the horses, or the wheel with the carriage going up and down?"
"The horses... it also makes music..."
"Oh, I know which one you mean..." Santa daydreamed alongside Jonathan. He then stirred, and gave another hug to Jonathan, before ruffling his hair. "Then, Jonathan, tonight you will see how miracles can happen."
Jonathan smiled weakly, wondering whether he should believe it, and he took the hand of the kind tall woman who led him out and back to his parents, asking for an address to them for sending out a gift certificate.
*
Alan climbed down the ladder, and stood back proudly.
"Light it up!"
Tom, further down the front yard, pressed on a switch, the solar-powered generator started up, and the small house's facade became illuminated of red, blue, green, and yellow.
Madzistrale and Bruno scanned the various boxes in his pickup bedding.
"I knew the kids would have wanted those awesome carousel toys!" she said, finally finding the box. "You've got the rest?"
"Yep," Bruno acquiesced, hauling two heavy bag on his shoulders. "Let's hurry, we still got a good twenty houses to do, and it's nearly supper time."
"Well, at least nothing will be too cold; the timing was perfect!" Madzistrale huffed and puffed as she jumped down the bedding.
Another house at their right became festively lit up.
"That's what we're talking about," Madzistrale proudly said.
Bruno heaved as he laid the two bags safely beneath the entranceway's roof; he then picked a card from his back pocket, and stringed it to the doorknob.
"Okay, quickly now," he said, running with Madzistrale back to the pickup.
"Gab is saying that the 232 Spruce wants a teddy bear," Madzistrale announced as she sat in the passenger seat. "And candies, of course."
"They're so demanding," Bruno joked.
"Well, let's be grateful it's not myrrh, incense and gold," Madzistrale joked in return.
*
"What in the world...?"
Jonathan's parents slowed down as they drove into their driveway, staring at their brightly lit house.
"Everyone's the same... Well, almost," his mother marvelled.
They got out of the car, and walked slowly to their entranceway, noticing the big bags.
"There's a card," his mother realized, picking it out of the doorknob as his father began unstringing one bag.
"May it help you spend a very cheerful Holidays. With kind blessings
- The Three-ish Kings of Kansas."
Jonathan's father gasped with joyful surprise as he took out various containers of already prepared food, still hot. There were also clothes, wine and juice, homemade cocoa mix, a few small gift boxes... and Jonathan laid eyes upon a box. A box with the horse carousel he saw at the hardware store.
"A money check is in there," his mother said, picking it out of the car envellope, trying hard not to let her emotions show. "A check of 5 grand. Honey, this will help with the bills!"
Jonathan's family hugged together in tears, this time of joy; not knowing many more families in their sector did the same that evening.
**********************
The fire cackling, the holiday music playing, Madzistrale, Tom, Gabzryel, Clara, Alan and Bruno settled upon the couches, a steaming cup of spiced wine in their hands.
"Cheers!" they clanked their cups together.
"Finally... We've been able to do it," Madzistrale sighed. She looked fearfully at Gabzryel. "How much did it took out from your savings?"
Gabzryel snorted.
"With my family's fortune, that was nothing. Beside, we have everything we need. They don't. It wasn't that hard of a sacrifice."
"I wish we could have seen their faces. They were already so happy just to leave the warehouse with the Christmas cake, and the leftovers of the buffet..." Clara mused.
"And poor kids..." Gabzryel sighed. "Some of them were way too young to be so worried already..."
"Well, not for some time," Tom interjected. "We've done well, gang. This was worth the long preparations."
"In that case..."
The friends clanked once again their cups and yelled together, knowing many families echoed with joy and conviction, the following:
"Merry Christmas!"