Santa

Image by 272447 from Pixabay



“You are wrong, you know. About Santa Claus.

He is real. My brother and I met him.”

The other children at the orphanage slid off their bunks and
gathered around the dim flashlight Aaron held. Bahi sat across from Aaron,
looking defiant.

“Oh, yeah?” Aaron said. He looked at the gathering children
who had all been his friends long before Bahi arrived at the orphanage. He
turned back toward her, sneering. “Let me guess. He looked just like your dad.”

“No, he was a white man. But he could disappear into the surrounding
sand the moment you looked away.”

“What are you talking about? Santa is a big fat man in a red
suit and a long white beard. And he’s not real,” Aaron said. A couple of
the other kids started giggling from beyond the range of the flashlight beam,
so Bahi had no idea who it was. “No old dude from the North Pole is going to
bring us any presents. Cuz none of us have parents anymore.”

“If you don’t believe in him, he won’t bring you anything,”
came a whispered voice from the darkness.

“Well, I believe in him,” Bahi said. She reached out, quick
as she could and snatched the flashlight from Aaron’s hand.

She held it up to her face. “He carried a heavy sack on his
back that was filled with toys. He gave me and my brother a red bouncy ball.
And he didn’t have a beard. He had a helmet, and a gun, but he said that was
just for the bad people. Like the ones who killed my parents. He promised he
would visit me here.”

She handed the flashlight back. “And you are saying his name
wrong. It is Sam T. Krause. But his friends call him ‘Sarge.’”

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