A Christmas Story for your enjoyment

Hello all. In the spirit of Christmas I decided to post a Christmas story I wrote recently. Should give you some idea of the type of stuff I wrote, but know that I don't usually do anything poetic. I just did it for this story because I thought it worked. Anyway, without further discussion have a Merry Christmas, and I hope you ejoy this story:

A Lesson from Santa
By: Taylor Knock

I woke up in the night,
And what did I hear?
The sound of my parents
Trying to spread Christmas cheer.

This is not right.
No this will not do,
For my parents are wrong
To spread the lies that they do.

They tell of Santa,
And pretend he is true.
They fool my younger brothers,
But I am no fool.

I set my alarm for a time of One,
For on this Christmas morning,
These games will be done.
The myth of Santa shall be lost,
My parent’s lies exposed as false.

I descend the stairs
Without making a sound,
Hoping my parents will not know
They’ve been found.

I press against the wall,
I look around the corner,
I see a large red sack,
Filled with presents and toys.

Oh they’ve gone far,
For look what they’ve bought!
A fake sack as cover
In case they were caught.

I truly want to laugh,
I truly want to,
For when I expose them,
They’ll know I’m no fool.

I’ll turn and I’ll yell,
Surely waking my siblings,
And they’ll all see
That the winner is me.

I smile at the success of my devious plan,
And round the corner to only see a hand.
A large hand covered in a black glove,
And heading for me with no amount of love.

It wraps around my throat,
I have no time to respond,
For the glove is around me,
I am its pawn.

This must be my father,
Who has definitely seen me,
And he’s mad that I have not been deceived.

I squint my eyes,
And look past the black glove
To see a man whose beard
Is as white as a dove.

It is not my father
That much is clear
But a great big fat man
Who comes once a year.

“Ho ho ho,” he says
as he grits his teeth at me.
“Tell me my boy,
is it I you’ve come to see?”

I say nothing,
For I am not fooled by this ruse.
Surely my parents
Had something to prove.

“I am no fake,” he says.
“I am no ruse.
Truly I’m Santa,
And it’s you who shall lose.”

“Lose?” I say,
Not getting his drift,
As he picks me up,
And slams me into some gifts.

“You’ve been a very bad boy,” he says
As he walks up to me,
And I have to admit
He’s very convincing.

“How much did they pay you?” I ask.
“How much was the fee?
Did my parents give you permission
To do this to me?”

He laughs in response
With such strength and such force
That it shakes in his belly,
It shakes the whole floor.

“Your parents know nothing,” he says.
“Your parents just sleep.
This idea was hatched
By no one but me.”

“Is that so?” I say
Not believing his lies.
“And I suppose your great beard
Is not held with a tie?”

He charges at me,
And slams me into the wall,
Holding me up,
Making me hope I don’t fall.

“I am very real,
This you can see.
It is because of your deeds
That you are speaking to me.”

“I know not what you speak of,” I say.
“I know not what you mean.
How could I demand
An audience with thee?”

He grits his teeth,
His eyes glow red.
He slams me down,
And I regret what I said.

I crash and I look
as he reaches into his red suit,
Pulling out a long list
that rolls under his boot.

“In November your brother of three,
mysteriously fell form a tree.
He said it was nothing,
But you and I know
That it was you who pushed him
Into the snow.”

I stiffen as he reads that deed to me,
And I wonder who his source could possibly be.
I try to back away into the Christmas Tree,
But he walks forward and crushes his boot onto me.

“It was a hot summer day
When your brother of six
Just wanted to play.
Yet you would not play,
No you would not,
Instead you forced his hand
Onto a stove that was hot.”

I try to defend myself,
I try to respond,
But he crushes his other boot
Into my right arm.

“When a puppy came looking
For a home in which to stay,
It was you
Who tossed it out like a stray.”

He looks up at me,
Away from his list,
And begins to speak
With a considerable hiss.

“It was just this past night,
When you yelled at your parents,
You vowed to ruin Christmas,
And demanded my appearance.

“It is this moment,” he continues.
“It is right now,
When you commit another crime,
For someone as evil as you,
Should not dare to think in such rhymes.”

I surely want to move away in fear,
For I know now who he is,
And the truth of his beard.

I know of that red suit,
And the big matching sack,
And wish this night was
Something I could take back.

“Stop thinking in rhyme,”
He yells in my face.
He removes his feet from my chest,
And my heart begins to race.

“There once was a time,” he says.
“When coal was enough,
For someone’s whose deeds
Were evil as thee.

“Tonight I discover
That is no longer the case,
For someone like you
Needs to be put in their place.”

“What shall you do?” I ask,
Fearing the worst
As he wraps his right hand
Around my dark shirt.

“You’ve been a very bad boy,” he says.
“Very bad indeed.
For this you deserve
A special warning from me.

“Do not do evil,
do not misbehave,
for there will be no more Santa,
ignoring your dark ways.”

“I will do better,” I say,
full of great fear.
“I only wish that I could take back
all the deeds of this year.”

“That is a good start,” he says.
“A good start indeed.
Perhaps you deserve
a gift under the tree.”

He lowers me to the ground,
And looks at the chimney.
He smiles as his gaze
Comes right back to me.

“You still think in rhyme,” he says.
“That crime I can forgive,
but should you return to your old ways,
you shall see me again one of these days.”

He turns from me
Moving over to the tree,
And grabs the two cookies
Left by my brother of three.

He eats them in silence,
And closes his big eyes,
As the taste of the cookies
Seems to fill him with surprise.

He opens his eyes again,
And looks back at me
As he points to the presents
Under the tree.

Laying right with them,
Laying right there,
Are many I know my parents
Had not placed there.

He says nothing more
As he walks to his sack
Slinging it over his shoulder
And onto his back.


He walks to the chimney
And stands underneath
And takes one more good hard look
Back at me.

“Be a good boy,” he says.
“Do it for me,
And you’ll like your presents
Under the tree.

“Be bad again,
And you should worry,
For no amount of pleas
Shall save you from my fury.

“Have a Merry Christmas,
But remember to fear,
For if you do not,
I’ll see you next year!”

With those words he turns,
And looks up the chimney,
And fits as if
He is someone who’s skinny.

I hear his boots stomp,
As I rise to my feet,
And run to the window
To find what I can see.

There in the distance
Traveling away from me
Is Santa on his sleigh
And some Reindeer flying
As if they had wings.

I stand there grabbing my arm,
And I came to realize the truth.
There is a Santa Claus,
There is one indeed.

He knows when you’re sleeping,
That much is true,
And if you are not good,
Then he’ll see you one day soon.

Copyright 2007 by Taylor Knock