‘Twas the Night, a Yuletide Tale

He reached into the sack and withdrew the small square box; the metallic apple-shaped logo showed clearly through the thin white wrapping paper in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. With care, he placed it under the Christmas tree amidst the other carefully wrapped gifts. There was a clinking noise as the ornaments shook and rattled, and the large, white-bearded man with rosy cheeks shot the green-clad elf an angry stare.

“Sorry, Santa,” the three-foot tall dark-haired elf steadied the tree, one hand gripping the faux pine branch and the other pointing at the large leather satchel slung on his back. “My bag hit it.”

Across the room, an elf sitting in an oversized red leather chair munched on a chocolate chip cookie and snickered maliciously at his counterpart’s clumsiness. Cookie crumbs littered the front of his green tunic, nearly as large as the red buttons that ran down the front. Reindeer-shaped cookies filled the green pointed hat that sat in the crook of his arm. He ran his fingers through his unruly red hair as he snickered and shook his head. The dark-haired elf hissed angrily at him, and Santa Clause shot them both a warning stare, his blue eyes filled with anger.

The dark-haired elf looked down at his booted feet with black beady eyes and grumbled quietly. Behind him, the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast a long shadow on the wall that accentuated his pointed ears.

“Santa?” the little girl’s voice was quiet and sleep-filled.

Santa froze where he stood, gripping his sizeable black sack tightly in white-gloved hands and casting an alarmed look at the dark-haired elf.

“Santa, is that you?” the little blonde girl smiled broadly as she patted toward the Christmas tree, the padded feet of her bright red onesie pajamas softly swishing across the wood floor.

The red-haired elf quietly pushed aside his cap full of cookies and crouched low in the leather chair so the girl would not see him as she approached. He reached his hand into a pouch at his waist, his clenched fist glittering in the tree lights as he withdrew it and held it close to his face.

The little girl’s eyes were wide with wonderment, and her smile reached her eyes as she padded forward toward Jolly Saint Nick. As she passed the red leather chair, the red-haired elf opened his fist and blew a handful of sparkling gold-colored dust in her face. The girl stopped in her tracks, her smile fading into a slack-jawed expression as the twinkle in her eyes dulled and her body went rigidly still. The elf did nothing to brace her fall as she fell backward onto the floor with a dull thud and lay there with blank-staring eyes facing the ceiling.

The dark-haired elf darted toward the girl, producing a small copper horn and a stoppered glass vial from the large satchel. The red-haired elf was grinning wickedly at the prone girl as the dark-haired elf came kneeling beside her. The girl’s blank face reflected in the polished metal of the horn as the dark-haired elf brought it to his lips. Santa slung the black sack over his shoulder and stood behind the elves, peering down the hallway, alert from any sound from the bedrooms.

Instead of trumpeting a call with the horn, the dark-haired elf breathed in deeply, causing a subtle sucking noise to emanate from the open end. The elf’s cheeks reddened as he began to suck harder on the horn. The red-haired elf dipped his face close to the little girl’s and gave a feral grin as a tiny wisp of willowy, sparkling haze began wafting up from the girl’s mouth and nostrils. His coal-black beady eyes watched as the tendrils of mist drifted up from the girl and into the horn.

Santa glanced at his elves’ handiwork and nodded approvingly as the dark-haired elf sucked the haze up into the horn, his chest and cheeks heaving with the effort. The elf clamped his lips shut tight and moved the horn from his mouth as he struggled to free the cork from the vial with his free hand.

“Dammit, Bregga, help Brekka before he loses it,” Santa gave the red-haired elf a kick with his black-booted foot.

Bregga gave a little cry and hurried over to grab the vial from the dark-haired elf. He yanked the glass vial from Brekka and pulled off the cork. Brekka leaned forward, put his lips on the vial’s opening, and exhaled deeply, filling the vial with the haze. When he finished, he slumped back onto the floor, his face red as he gasped in air. Bregga quickly stoppered the cork onto the vial and peered wickedly into the vial as the haze swirled inside.

“Come, you two, we’ve tarried here too long already,” Santa headed for the cold, blackened fireplace.

A tear slowly formed at the corner of the little girl’s eye and dripped down the side of her head. She fell into a fitful slumber as the three figures disappeared up the chimney. In the morning, her parents would find her sleeping by the tree, unaware of what she had lost. However, they may notice that she drew pictures less frequently or played less creatively with her dolls after that Christmas.

“There are no cookies,” Bregga sniffed the air and stared around the small living room with evident disappointment.

“Their tree is hideous,” Brekka eyed the Christmas tree decorated with an assortment of bells and white, green, red, gold, and silver pinecones.

“Uggh, sage leaves,” Santa sniffed a handmade bowl full of silver-green leaves on the coffee table and looked dispassionately at the unburned log in the fireplace. Wreaths of holly, berry, and mistletoe hung by the feet of three large hand-carved owls perched on the mantle. He poked a gloved hand at the life-like wooden eye of one of the owls and begrudgingly marveled at the intricate carving of the creature’s features.

“I hope there’s a Playstation in the sack for these losers,” Brekka poked at a green-painted pinecone that dangled from the Christmas tree.

“I’m not sure they even have a television,” Bregga had a sour expression on his face as he looked at the walls decorated with paintings of forests and mountain scenes. He ran a hand over the green couch and brought it to his nose. “We need to be careful; they have a dog.”

“Look how creative the children are,” Santa’s eyes lit up, and he smiled greedily as he thumbed over a stack of crayon drawings of woodland creatures that sat on the handmade wooden coffee table. He pointed his white-gloved hand toward the hallway bedrooms, “I want more than a vial from each of these children.”

The bells on the tree rattled loudly as the tree shook, and Santa turned to glare at Brekka.

“That was not me, Santa,” Brekka held up two hands defensively and shook his head.

“I’m over here,” Bregga crossed his arms and leaned against the couch as Santa turned his gaze on him.

All three pairs of eyes suddenly turned toward the fireplace as the log burst into flame, crackling and popping from the heat.

“That’s certainly strange,” the firelight reflected in Brekka’s dark, beady eyes.

A loud jingling of bells echoed loudly through the room as the Christmas tree shook again. Santa and Brekka backed away from the Christmas tree as it shook again even more vigorously, and Bregga drew a wicked-looking curved blade from beneath his green tunic.

“It looks like we have a jokester here,” Bregga pointed his knife toward the tree.

“Come out and say hi to Santa,” Brekka reached into his satchel and slid out the copper horn.

“Trick or treat,” a large hand slid around to the front of the tree as a long, powerful moose-like leg stepped out from behind the Christmas tree. A second hooved foot thudded loudly on the floor as a tall, bearded man-like creature with a six-pointed rack of gleaming white antlers emerged. “I am sorry, wrong holiday. What is it supposed to be now? Oh yes, ho…ho…ho….”

Santa’s face turned almost as white as his beard at the sight of the creature, and he took an involuntary step back, letting his sack full of electronics fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Brekka tugged at the hem of Santa’s long red coat and pointed behind them, where two large gray dogs barred the way to the house’s bedrooms. Their lips became snarls as they glared maliciously at the three intruders.

“Krampus,” Bregga spat a wad of spittle onto the floor and glared at the antlered figure.

“Oh, come now, there’s no need for name-calling,” the figure took a heavy step forward and scooped a handful of sage leaves from the bowl on the coffee table. The tips of his antlers barely missed the high ceiling of the room. “I would really prefer if you used my proper name.”

“Cernunnos,” the words were little more than a whisper as they escaped Santa’s lips.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” the forest god smiled warmly and reached a muscular arm toward the dark-haired elf. “Your satchel, please. Come now, don’t make me ask twice.”

Brekka clutched the satchel and stared from Cernunnos to Santa. The man pursed his lips and then begrudgingly nodded to the dark-haired elf.

“Don’t give it to him, Brekka,” Bregga narrowed his eyes and twirled the curved blade in his hand. “There’s three of us and just one of Bambi here.”

“Bregga,” Santa raised a cautioning hand to the elf.

“You know,” Cernunnos plucked a golden pinecone from the Christmas tree and rolled it in his large palm. “What a wonderful little tale your kind has weaved. A jolly, fat man who comes down the chimney to give all the good little girls and boys presents. I watched as the old gods faded, and you created this fable. Back then, you just slipped into homes to steal shiny trinkets and bring them back to your dark places. ”

The golden pinecone began to glow red hot like an ember as he rolled it in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the glowing ember sailed across the room and struck Bregga’s knife hand, searing the flesh with a sizzling sound like frying bacon. The red-haired elf howled in pain, dropping the knife, which clattered to the floor alongside the once again golden pinecone. Bregga cradled his hand and stared balefully at Cernunnos as he moved to stand closer to Santa.

“Now you fill their homes with all these electronic screens for them to stare at mindlessly, locked in their homes, dulling their minds,” the forest god lifted a hooved foot and stomped down hard on Santa’s sack repeatedly, shattering the delicate electronics inside.

“All while your kind slips into their homes and steals the essence of creativity and imagination from their children,” Cernunnos reached out to Brekka, who quickly relinquished the satchel. “I have often wondered if you do this because you find those vials of the essence so intoxicating or if your kind just wants to make this world as gray and drab as your souls?”

He jiggled the satchel, which clinked loudly as the vials bounced together. “It sounds like you three have been very naughty boys tonight.”

Cernunnos reached into the satchel and popped the corks from the vials. Wisps of sparkling haze drifted from the satchel, swirling around Cernunnos before snaking up the chimney and into the sky. The forest god smiled as he watched the mist quickly depart. “I’m sure those children will be delighted to have that back.”

“Those children don’t believe in you,” Santa struggled to meet the horned god’s steady gaze. “They fear you.”

“Oh, I almost forgot the little gest in your tale. Santa has an evil, horned brother, Krampus, who steals bad little children and puts them in a sack to make a nice stew. I am sure those One True Godders just loved that,” Cernunnos flicked a finger to one of his pointy antlers and smiled mischievously. “But Santa, who is the real monster?”

Cernunnos threw the handful of sage into the fireplace and watched as the flames quickly consumed the silver-green leaves. A silvery smoke wafted out of the fireplace and drifted toward Santa and the two elves. As the smoke touched the two elves, their skin turned dark gray and pocked with scars. The elves beady eyes sunk further into their head as their teeth elongated into jagged points, and their hair grew long and stringy. The fingers on their hands grew into boney claws with coal-black fingernails.

As the smoke touched Santa, the facade of his broad bearded face and round belly that shook like a bowl full of jelly disappeared, leaving another of the gray-skinned creatures standing amidst the remnants of the oversized red suit, cap, and boots.

“Goblins,” Cernunnos shook his head as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

Three sets of beady eyes followed Cernunnos as he warmed his hands by the fire.

“Tonight, on Christmas Eve, goblins like you are slipping into people’s homes all over the world and scurrying back to their dark places with their ill-gotten vials. The mistake you three made was that this home celebrates Yule, not Christmas,” the firelight flickered in his eyes as he glanced sidelong at them. “Which means this house…and these people…fall under my protection.”

Cernunnos looked up at the three carved owls on the mantle and moved his large hand to touch the head of each one. As his fingers caressed the smooth wooden heads, each owl came to life, their carved features transforming into flesh and feathers. They clicked their beaks and stretched wings as life surged into their bodies.

The three goblins recoiled in horror as the giant owls turned their heads toward them. They tried to back away, but the two shaggy gray dogs gave deep guttural growls that stopped them. The owls spread their wings wide and swept off the mantle to sink sharp talons into the shrieking, cowering goblins. The hideous creatures writhed and squirmed as the owls lifted them off the ground and flew around the room. The dogs’ heads followed the owls and goblins as they circled the room, their canine jaws snapping at dangling legs as they passed by until the owls swooped down low, into the fireplace, and up the chimney as the goblins howled in terror.

Cernunnos grabbed the discarded Santa suit and threw it into the fireplace, where flames quickly consumed the red material. He sniffed the curved blade the goblin had dropped, wrinkled his nose in distaste at the smell of malice covering the goblin-forged blade, and threw it into the fire to be unmade by the flames.

Holding up Santa’s large black boots, he glanced over at the man of the house’s worn shoes placed neatly by the door and judged the size just right. He put the boots under the Yule tree. Reaching into a small sack he had behind the tree, Cernunnos withdrew a wooden deer, bear, and squirrel he had carved himself from an old birch branch and left them beside the boots as gifts for the children when they awoke. With a smile, he withdrew six small pouches of dried herbs that would cure ailments and left them beside the carved figures.

The forest god looked around the home and nodded that everything was in order again. He stopped to pet the two shaggy dogs, who waged their tails happily at his gentle touch before he slipped out the door and into the night. In the distance, his keen eyes spied the tiny shape of three owls as they flew off with their Yuletide dinner, and his deep laughter echoed through the trees.

Jack Finn (TWITTER:@TheRealJackFinn )