Eight-year old Jaimey sulked. Her mother, Deanna gave her a gentle nudge. “Go on. He’s waiting,” she encouraged.
“Why Mom?” groaned Jaimey. “It’s just a guy in a costume.”
Deanna readied her camera. “Oh stop being a party-pooper. Go!”
Dutifully, Jaime sat on Santa’s lap. She sighed, “I know you’re not really Santa. Thanks for trying though.”
“Who says I’m not?” said Santa.
“All the kids at school. They said it’s all a lie.”
Santa chuckled. “Well, young lady they’re partly right.”
“Only partly. I don’t visit every house in one night.” He patted his jiggling belly. “And I don’t fit in chimneys at all.”
Jaimey was suddenly interested. “That makes more sense.”
“Ho-ho-ho! Of course! I only visit the children that really need me. I work in the background, you see? I make good things happen to good children, and no one ever knows I was there. I work all year long, not just one night. For me, every day is Christmas Day!”
“Wow. You’re cooler that I thought,” smiled Jaimey.
“You’re most gracious, young Jaimey. Now what do you want for Christmas?”
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t really get it. You’re just a regular guy.”
Santa smiled and winked. “Still need proof?”
“Alright, ask me for anything. And make it hard.”
Jaimey squinted. “Okay. I want the rarest flower in the world. It’s called, ‘Middlemist Red.’ It’s almost impossible to get.”
“Ho-ho-ho! You are a clever girl. You’re on.” He handed her a wrapped present. “Here you go.”
“That’s it! Merry Christmas!”
An excited Jaimey detailed her conversation with Santa Claus to her mother. As Deanna drove home, another driver approached from the other direction. He should have collided with them and killed Deanna, leaving Jaimey an orphan doomed to heartless foster care. But a sudden flash of red and white caught his eye. His daydream broke and he avoided them.
The bank was supposed to forclose on Deanna’s house if the final balloon payment was one minute late. Deanna only cobbled together the money three days late. Miraculously, the bank officer recieved the payment one hour early, violating the laws of time and space.
At home, Jaimey opened her gift from Santa. She leaned back and groaned. “It’s only a toy horse.”
“That’s nice,” said Deanna.
“No it’s not! It’s proof it’s all a lie. That guy was a just a good liar!” Jaimey stormed into her room and slammed the door closed.
Deanna stood at the door trying to console her daughter. “I’m so sorry sweetie. I’m sorry Santa is a lie. It was a nice lie wasn’t it?”
Jaimey suddenly opened the door, eyes wide. “No Mom,” she stammered. “The real lie is that Santa Claus is a lie.” She pointed to the impossibility sitting on her desk: a Middlemist Red flower.
Merry Christmas everyone!
The Middlemist Red is a real flower and probably the rarest in the world: http://www.treehugger.com/natural-sciences/rarest-flower-in-the-world-blooms-in-the-uk-pics.html
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction. Look here for the original prompt and a blue link to the other stories written for the prompt: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2015/12/20/sunday-photo-fiction-december-20th-2015/