Santa's Secret

Gather ‘round the fireplace, kids,” Grandpa said. “It’s time I told you a tale my own grandfather told me long ago on a winter night just like this …”

"It was winter break, a time of festivity for the entire town. Snow rested upon the ground like frosting. The moon was especially big, and the children were out playing in the cul de sac. My great grandmother was out on vacation, leaving the cabin all to my grandfather.

At a certain point, the sounds coming from outside had halted, leaving him in dead silence. My grandpa decided to step outside for a moment, a can of beer in his hand. It was surprisingly bright outside. Christmas joy seemed to light up the night.

A structure, almost circular, at the center of the cul de sac caught his eye. The snow around it seemed to have been shaved away. After moving closer, he could finally see that the structure was actually an igloo, one which looked like it came straight out of a book; 5 feet in height, smooth, curved walls -- a construction which seemed to be impossible for the children playing outside." Grandpa paused, taking a sip of his beer. He hesitated for a moment but continued, "My grandpa decided to walk around the igloo, until he caught sight of the frame which was supposed to represent the entrance. He looked inside." My grandpa paused again. His expression turned pale for a moment, but slowly returned back to normal. "The rest is up to your imaginations," he flashed a jolly smile before getting up and returning to the dinner table.

The other kids thought nothing of it, but I was the oldest sibling and knew my grandfather well  as he took care of me for many years before my parents were able to find a stable occupation. One of his most notable traits was that he never went back on his word. To end a story abruptly was something he had never done, and I knew that from the amount of stories he told me as a kid.

It was midnight, I lay in my bed thinking of the story my grandfather told. Curiosity had the best of me, so I tiptoed down the stairs and into his office which he strictly prohibited anyone else from entering. After peeping around every corner of the office, I decided to go through his drawers. Finally, I found a black folder with no text on it. The ink had seemed to have expired long ago, leaving cracks and stains everywhere. I carefully opened the folder, making sure to stay silent. I used my phone's flashlight to read what was inside: "Certificate of Completion, Santa" was printed in big, bold words on the very top of the first document. An image below portrayed my grandfather standing next to what was an extremely obese man with plenty of facial hair. He was no other than Santa Clause. "So, you really want to know." A voice from behind me muttered quietly. I immediately looked back, pointing my flashlight at the source of the voice. He was no other than my grandfather. "Oh, grandpa - it's not what it looks like."

"If you're ready to know, you're ready to know."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you the rest of it, but it might not be something you can undertake."

"Tell me." I said firmly.

"My grandfather stood outside the igloo, peering inside but only seeing a pile of little kids. They were dead." My grandpa said. I jumped up, dead? How is that possible? My grandpa continued anyways, "Santa killed them," he said. "Santa would never kill anyone," I said.

"Listen up, Santa is not who you think he is, he's something far more sinister. Entering that igloo was the worst mistake of my grandfather's life. He's been embedded with the curse of Santa, meaning every generation of children after him will be forced to serve Santa for a minimum of two years. During these two years, you are practically a slave, creating presents day in and day out, serving Santa all the food you can, and the worst part is, if you make a mistake, you are eaten alive."
"Well, well, well," a voice came from behind my grandfather, I looked. An extremely large figure emerged from the shadows, his stomach almost reaching my grandfather's back. His stature reaching seven feet, almost as tall as the ceiling. "It's about time," he said.