THe Death of Santa Claus

© 2004 Victor Lana
All rights reserved.

-Francis P. Church

The end for the jolly old elf would come rather quickly after the malevolent ones transferred him to the deranged doctor. They wished to take everything: the ubiquitous red suit, boots, red cap fringed with white fur, and especially the golden bell that had hung around the old man's neck for centuries. The doctor refused their request, though, saying he would not sign the agreement unless Santa and all his possessions were allowed to remain in the laboratory.

"I need everything for my testing. Remember, I have initiated this transaction, gentle..." he was not certain of their genders and mumbled, "...men; therefore, it is essential that all my stipulations be honored."

They conferred briefly with one another and agreed to Severin's demands. The gaunt, pale doctor hastily signed the contract without looking at it, to the muffled glee of the hideous-looking creatures with carbuncular skin, yellow eyes, and venomous teeth.

"Now, let me do my work," scolded Dr. Severin, and they became dark vapors and disappeared through a wall.

Severin took the bell, held it up in the air, and rang it several times in a motion reminiscent of a Salvation Army volunteer.

"Give me immortality! Give me your power now!"

His assistant watched silently as Severin lowered the bell and let it hang by its chain from his bony fingers. The doctor shook his head.

"The power is not here; it is not in the blasted suit or hat; so, as I suspected, it must be inside him." He hung the necklace on a hook over the shelf where his instruments glistened in the lights of the laboratory. Severin adjusted his lab coat and walked stiffly toward the operating table. He stood briefly looking down at Santa, who was unconscious, drugged by his abductors. All of the old man's dignity was gone now as he lay naked with his arms and legs bound by chains.

Severin drove two needles into the unconscious Santa, quickly and effectively paralyzing, then killing, him. The doctor waited as the old man's body quivered and shook for a few minutes. He unlocked the chains and threw them on top of the heap of Santa's clothing in the corner. Working feverishly with his scalpel, Severin made the Y-shaped incision and soon rendered the distinct shape of Santa Claus a mass of gushing blood and flapping flesh.

Diener, the assistant, a short man dressed in black standing near the operating table, felt great sadness as Severin stepped back and wiped away some of the blood that had splattered on his face with a towel. The doctor surveyed the situation and spoke to him softly.

"Take this down: what had been once described as 'a bowl full of jelly' gushed out and spilled onto the floor as I began the autopsy."

Diener jotted down the words in the journal, thinking, Too bad, Santa, that it had to end this way for you. Severin's assistant was gnarled by years of arthritis and hard living. His gray hair was so long that he had to tuck it into his pants to keep it off the floor. After working for Severin for more years than he could remember, Diener and the once-brilliant doctor had a symbiotic relationship. Diener enjoyed living in the old mansion, getting three meals a day, and having a place to sleep. In return, he loyally assisted Severin in all dubious matters; however, the murder of Santa was most repugnant thing they had ever done together. He stared at the notebook and pencil in his fingers, which were covered by latex gloves, and remembered waiting for Santa Claus in his youth. I used to believe in you, Santa. How could I have been a party to this? he thought as he looked up at Dr. Severin.

The doctor pulled the lamp down low over Santa's exposed innards. He glanced up at the old man's twisted face; the rosy cheeks and nose like a cherry were now encased in death's pallor. Severin ran his gloved fingers along the bowel and shook his head. "Impossible, Diener," he moaned.

"What is, Doctor?"

The doctor poked and probed the lungs and liver and pierced the heart with his blade. "Normal! Everything is completely normal. Damn it all to hell!"

Diener nodded and thought to himself, So, you get nothing from this, then. Good for you, swine.

Severin walked around the table, the ends of his gloved fingertips glistening with blood. He threw the scalpel aside and stared down at the corpse.

"It is impossible for a man who has lived for over a thousand years to be normal inside like this. There are no signs of immortality; just human flesh and blood."

Diener heard a thump in the cage in the next room. The old woman was waking.

"Sir, I would guess that means we don't have to kill Mrs. Claus, too?"

"What do you care, you old fool? I sold my soul to get this man here. I need to find his secret of immortality, and fast! But there is nothing here."

"Nothing, sir? But perhaps it is something not corporeal."

Severin looked up at the old servant and raised a bloodied finger in the air.

"The brain!"

Diener winced as the doctor lifted the vibrating saw and savagely cut into Santa's head. Severin quickly split open the skull and struggled to remove the brain, eventually placing it on the glass of an adjacent table. As Severin poked at the cerebellum, Diener thought that the doctor worked with all the skill of a shopper picking a head of lettuce in a supermarket.

"Damn it all to hell!" Severin roared. "Nothing at all unusual!"

"It shouldn't surprise you," Diener said, with a little snicker.

"If I had time, I'd test the blood and the tissue. But there is no time!"

"The thing you're looking for is not there," Diener whispered.

"Beware," Severin roared as he pointed a bloody finger at him, "I am not in the mood for your humor."

Diener ambled over to the curtain and peeked inside. The old woman, dressed in red to complement her husband's clothing, sat on the edge of the little cot, wringing her hands. She had been drugged sufficiently to keep her calm, but now she was awake and would be uncomfortable in the cold, cramped cage. Diener felt sorry for her as he listened to the doctor ranting over the devastated corpse.

"In order to capture the essence of immortality, I have put everything in jeopardy. Alas, look at this pathetic specimen. Why, he's just like any old man," Severin groaned.

Diener looked at the weeping old woman sitting there, and he knew that the doctor had forgotten the most salient aspect of Santa's longevity: his spirit. He had vainly tried to discuss this matter with Severin beforehand, but the doctor had made his underworld contract believing that he could get out of it by capturing the secret of immortality from Santa before the malevolent ones came to claim his soul.

The two creatures who had captured Santa Claus were gone for now, but Diener recalled their savage countenances and horrendous smell. Severin had made a pact with the devil himself, so the ghouls who brought Santa to them were empowered by the fires of hell. No human being could have wrestled the bell from Santa's neck, rendering him just a pathetic old man rather than the legendary figure of folklore and poetry.

Diener turned and looked at the bell, now dangling from a hook on the wall. As Severin walked over and washed his hands in the sink, Diener thought that no child would ever again be delighted by the sound of bells at Christmastime.

The doctor took the bell and held it in his bony wet fingers. Raising it up over his head so that the light from the glaring laboratory lamps glistened on its golden surface, Severin bellowed, "Give me the power of immortality, the power of flight, the power of Santa Claus!"

Diener winced as he looked away, but there no were crashes of thunder and bolts of lightning. The bell just hung there silently, as if Severin weren't even worth a ringing.

Severin's arms shook as he lowered them and placed the bell on the table. "Just a piece of garbage, Diener. The secret must be someplace else."

Diener figured that if the bell were magical, it would not work in evil hands, so he said nothing. Instead, he looked up at Severin's weary face.

"Sir, you are exhausted. Perhaps a bit of rest will help you."

"Rest? How can I rest? They will return for me shortly. I must discover the secret..." Severin's eyes widened as he looked toward the curtain that blocked the view of the cage containing Mrs. Claus. "The old woman! The secret must be in that hag."

"But, sir, she is not blessed with magical powers or..."

Severin grabbed Diener by the collar and shook him. "She has lived for hundreds of years, too. She is immortal. Bring her out to me now so that I may examine her."

Sonya Kringle sat on the edge of the cot, shivering, feeling something she had never felt before: the infirmities of age crawling through every fiber of her body. All the centuries of her life coalesced as she sat on that cot, knowing that she and her husband were now imprisoned by evil beings. What they wanted she did not know, but she was wise enough to discern that she and Nicholas were going to die without the amulet to protect them.

She thought about how she had met Nicholas so many years ago, when they were both young and beautiful in the warmth of their home country. He wore the shining gold bell around his neck, and she could hear him coming from far away when he came to call on her. Sonya remembered Nick's story of the bell. That golden artifact had belonged to a wealthy dying man in Jerusalem, who had used the bell to signal his servants when he needed assistance. One day the man saw Jesus passing his house, and he pledged to give up all his possessions to prove his faith in God. After Jesus cured the man, Peter showed interest in the bell and its golden chain, so Jesus blessed it and told Peter to keep it as a reminder of the value of faith. After Peter's death it languished in evil hands for hundreds of years until crusaders rescued it and donated the sacred bell to Anatole, an old priest. He eventually gave it to Nicholas, who had worn it around his neck ever since. It provided immortality and gave him magical powers, including the ability to transmogrify into a multifaceted self who could deliver millions of presents every Christmas Eve, though sometimes to the wrong houses.

Sonya and Nicholas had married two weeks after they met and bore numerous children. Since Sonya's own father had been small in stature with decidedly elfin ears, most of their the children never grew to more than four-and-a-half feet in height and were affectionately called "our elves" by Nicholas and herself. Their children eventually had many children of their own, for there were wee folk to be found all over the land in those days. Some of the in-law elves lent their own magic to the family, and the tradition of giving gifts to the less fortunate originated from their practices.

Sonya recalled the fall of Constantinople as if it were yesterday, and how her husband used power from the ornament to make a fleet of chariots pulled by horses to fly across time and space. All of the children, grandchildren, and elves made the journey and, unlike the legends often told about their final residence, they did not land at the North Pole, but in northern Greenland, where Nicholas built a palace of ice and air. Within the palace the elves carved a village for the themselves out of pine trees brought to them by the flying chariots.

Unfortunately, the horses did not survive long in the Arctic cold, so the elves captured and trained reindeer and turned the chariots into sleighs to navigate the snow and ice. They also built a home for Sonya and Nicholas and a huge building that at first was a heating facility but would later become the renowned toy factory.

While the elves had an inherent immortality that kept them young, Nicholas and Sonya aged gradually over hundreds of years. Their longevity had been confined only to health. They were not immune to other afflictions or injuries. Nick frequently cut his hands in the workshop. They were as susceptible as any older folks to falling, to bruises, and to frostbite. One time, when Nicholas had been mistakenly shot by a hunter who had been aiming an arrow at one of the reindeer, he had almost died, and he would have died for certain if not for the bell. Yes, its power included healing, for Sonya had seen Nicholas bring many of the elves back to good health with it.

Now, in this dark moment, as she sat as a prisoner in a small cage, old age had firmly placed both hands on her shoulders. Sonya felt herself dying, knowing she might leave her body at any moment. She fell back on the hard cot and recalled the way this terrible situation had all started.

Santa had always been fascinated by the battle of good versus evil, confidently believing that he was one of the soldiers of light. They had many skirmishes with the forces of darkness over the years, for Nick's work inherently challenged evil's existence, yet Santa Claus had always emerged triumphant and prepared to do his rounds every Christmas.

When the elves had told Nick and Sonya of the encroachment of evil spirits near their village, Nicholas sprang into action to defend his progeny and friends. As he prepared to leave their house late one evening, Sonya had touched his arm gently.

"Please, don't go. The young ones can handle these sprites themselves."

Nick slapped his thick black belt around his waist and buckled it, looking up at her with his twinkling blue eyes.

"My dear, these are not just sprites. From what the elves have told me, they have extensive powers."

Sonya shivered as she looked out the window at the dark night; a heavy snowfall was in progress.

"You're not as strong as you think, Nick. Please give young Nicholas the bell; he can deal with them as well as you can. You and I can stay here by the fire. I just made some rum punch."

"No, dear, no time for frivolities now. I will not put my grandson in harm's way, Sonya." Nick opened the collar of his red suit lined with white fur, lifting the bell into the light. "I will go because I must defend this place from the one who would destroy it and all it stands for. Now, please let me go, my dear."

Sonya lifted her face up and Nick kissed it softly, with the tenderness of the love that had encompassed them for so many centuries. He stomped toward the door and looked back at her, giving her a vigorous wave of his hand before he went out into the cold night.

She had tried to fiddle around with some paperwork, since it was Sonya's recordkeeping and business acumen that kept the whole enterprise moving smoothly year after year. Something bothered her about these malevolent interlopers more than any who had proceeded them: there was something ominously different about the elves' accounts of their appearances and actions.

"It's a trap," she realized. She jumped up, threw on her coat, and ran out into the night. She went across the courtyard and down the steep snowy path toward the elves' village. Her breath showing in the starkly cold night, Sonya moved more quickly than she thought she could as she rushed to assist Nicholas against the evil ones.

She came into the main street of the village, its quaint little houses all covered with snow. She noticed Nick in the center of the square with nearly the entire population of elves standing behind him. He held both arms back slightly, as if he were protecting them, and he conversed with something or someone that was not visible. Walking briskly toward her husband, Sonya was suddenly grabbed by a tall, hideously foul creature that pressed a long blade against her throat.

Santa looked toward her and realized what was happening. He pulled the bell from around his neck and held it out in front of him.

"Release my wife now, or I will send you both spiraling back into hell to languish with the Fallen One."

Another creature that had the same hideous appearance as the one holding Sonya manifested itself, standing defiantly before her husband.

"Nothing you can do will save her, Santa Claus. It's over for you. Yes, you can send us back whence we came, but she will die before we go. Now, give me the amulet."

Nick had shivered as he looked at Sonya, seeing the jagged blade pressed against her neck. Sonya knew that he wouldn't let her die alone like this, even if he realized that by relinquishing the bell they would probably die together. He removed the ornament from his neck and reluctantly placed it into the vaporous dark hand of the malevolent being. As all the elves moaned with fear, it moved stealthily and had Nick by the arms, wrapping him in heavy chains.

The next thing she knew, Sonya had awakened in the small cage lying on the cot. Now she lay there with her weak heart slowly petering out in her chest, feeling the end would come soon.

Diener tried to procrastinate as much a possible, hoping that the evil ones would come back before Severin could hurt Mrs. Claus. He pointed to the devastated corpse and pleaded, "Please, don't let her see him like that."

Severin rubbed his bony hands together.

"Diener, you worry me; it seems you're growing a conscience."

"No, sir, it's not that. I just think she might ... get a heart attack and die on you."

"Hmmm, good point. I need her alive, at least at first." Severin looked around the room. "Okay, clean up this mess and then bring her out here. I will go into my office and refresh myself."

Diener watched the doctor leave and then placed Santa's ravaged body and severed brain into a dark bag. He was about to throw the bell in there too, and then he wondered if it could be of any use to Mrs. Claus, so he placed it on the shelf next to the body bag.

He cleaned the bloody floor and table, and then watched the door to Severin's office for a few moments. Maybe the doctor had fallen asleep. What was he to do now? He could run away, but how far could he go? The evil ones would surely find him, no matter where he went. Diener reasoned that he belonged in hell, for he earned a place in the infernal hole due to all his work with Severin. Still, if only he could help Mrs. Claus go free, maybe there would be a chance for his soul.

He thought he heard a moan from the cage, and he shuffled over and saw Mrs. Claus writhing on the cot. She was dying, and he felt terribly sad that it had to be this way. He glanced back at the bell and rushed over to get it. Then he unlocked the cage, walked in quietly, and placed the jingling bell on Mrs. Claus's forehead.

The whole room was engulfed in white light, the cage rattled, and the floor shook. Diener fell to his knees and quaked as he saw Mrs. Claus sit up; she was no longer an old woman, but a beautiful young girl. She looked at her arms and hands and smiled when she saw him.

"Thank you very much."

Diener nodded weakly.

"Please, let's get out of here now."

Mrs. Claus picked the bell up off the floor.

"Where is my husband?"

Diener shook as he pointed to the dark bag on the metal table. Sonya Kringle leapt from the cot and dashed over to her husband's remains. A brief tear trickled down her lovely cheek, and she looked at Diener and commanded, "Open this bag at once."

Diener felt he had no choice but to comply, and Sonya held up the bell and said a quick prayer.

"Please, bless us once again." She reached in the bag and placed the bell on the carcass, taking away her hand tinged with blood.

As they stood staring at the body bag on the table, the walls shook and one broke open. The two hideous creatures who had first captured her emerged from the gaping hole with a third being leading them. Sonya immediately recognized the Fallen One, glittering a smoky light, the outline of its jewel-encrusted form lined with gold.

Severin staggered out of his office, long arms dangling at his side. He knew they were there for him, that the inevitable and eternal darkness would begin. But the evil being turned its attention to Sonya and marveled.

"You have your youth again, Sonya."

"And I have my faith," she said.

"Even after your husband's murder and dismemberment? How amazing!"

"I know who you are; you have tried to get to us before."

"You can't blame an old fallen angel for trying, can you?" it snickered.

Severin clasped his hands together and begged. "Please, let me out of this agreement. I did not get what I bargained for."

"Ah, I've heard that one too many times, you pathetic wretch. You got a chance at it, but I guaranteed no success. You did not read the contract, doctor. I am here to collect you and that assistant of yours. Now, where is the amulet?"

Severin turned to Diener, and the long-haired old man shook with fear. The evil creature glided toward Sonya and Diener with the two malevolent beings following it.

"I will have that stupid bell now."

Sonya Kringle raised her now youthful hand, a glowing white light emanating from it and holding back the malevolent ones.

"You will do no such thing. Leave here immediately."

"My dear, you have become ... confused by your nascent condition, but do not harbor any illusions. I will have this wretched man, that idiot doctor, and the amulet as well. As you know, I take whatever I want!"

Sonya's lithe pale hand remained resolutely raised before the Fallen One's countenance, and it seemed that the power of the bell emanated from every molecule of her being.

"You will not have the amulet, nor will you try to take this man. He has redeemed himself; his soul is for one greater than you to take now."

"I will no longer trifle with you," the creature howled, fighting against the power she exerted. Just as it extended its jewel-encrusted hand toward them more forcefully, the bag containing Santa's remains exploded, sending fragments of blood and bone across the room and raining down shards of purifying white light.

"Be damned, Pere Noel! Be cursed, Sinter Klaas!" the fallen angel cried as the broken pieces of light fell against its skin and sizzled.

The room shattered and the building shook as steam poured forth from the evil one. For several seconds everything became covered in shimmering light, and then a powerful force pulled papers, furniture, windows, and doors into the gaping black hole in the wall.

Diener felt himself being sucked away until Sonya grabbed his wrist with her glowing hand, and he looked up and saw her radiantly beautiful smile and knew confidently that he had been saved.

Diener woke and stood up, brushing the dust and debris from his arms and legs. It was a brilliant morning, and Sonya Kringle stood defiantly amidst the ruins of the house. She was holding a few small patches of Santa's red suit that she must have found in the wreckage. Diener looked around the room and shook his head. Santa's remains were gone, as were all the instruments, the operating table, the cage, and filing cabinets. Everything had been sucked through that gaping hole except Sonya and Diener.

She placed a soft hand on his shoulder and said, "Thank you."

"I ... I don't know what happened here," Diener said.

"We have been saved," she said with a smile.

"We have been ... saved?"

"Yes, you were saved because of your good act."

Sonya walked over and stood inside the sunlit doorway. Diener stepped toward her hesitantly.

"I am sorry about Santa Claus."

Sonya looked up at the blue morning sky and shook her head.

"Don't be. He's very happy now."

Diener noticed something glowing in the corner under a pile of rubble. He went over and pushed the shattered concrete and wood out of the way.

"Look, Mrs. Claus," he said, brushing the dust off the bell, "it's still here."

Sonya walked over gracefully, took the bell from Diener's fingers, and draped it around her neck. She closed her eyes and placed the palm of her hand flat against it.

"Come for me now."

When she opened her eyes, a brisk wind blew through the walls, the broken windows, and doorways of the building.

Diener watched as a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer swooped across the sky, circled the house, and landed on the front lawn. Two elves sat holding the reins as a young man in a red suit just like Santa wore jumped out and ran over to her.

"Grandmother, is that you?"

"Yes, Nicholas, it is I."

"You are so young and ... beautiful," he said slowly.

"Why thank you, my dear. I am just as I was on the day I met your grandfather. I have to be ready, for I will see him again soon."

"Grandfather? Where is Grandfather? We have less than twenty-four hours until Christmas Eve, and no one has been able to find him or you for weeks since those creatures took you away."

"We've been away that long?" she asked, and Nicholas nodded. She touched his cheek and smiled. "All will be well, now." Sonya took the bell from around her neck and placed it over her grandson's head. "This is the Amulet of Anatole, given to your grandfather long ago. By the time we get back to the palace, you will be ready to make the flight to deliver the toys."

"I'll be ready?" Nicholas asked, incredulously.

"I mean, Santa will be ready." She turned and waved to Diener, then looked at her grandson. "Let's go home."

Sonya and Nicholas climbed into the sleigh, and it took off in elegant silence, swooping up into the blue sky toward the sun. Diener waved back at them, moving his arm until long after they were out of sight.

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