“Hi…I’m Dr Graham. Psychiatrist.”
“Can I leave him with you? He’s pretty calm now and I must return to the precinct. This is my badge number and mobile if you need to contact me, but the staff has all the details.”
The policeman ripped a piece of paper from his notebook and handed it to her as he left. She didn’t even have time to react. Yes, Nicholas Klaus appeared pretty calm, but…appearances could indeed be deceptive, as she knew.
“Mr Klaus. Can I call you Nicholas, or Nic?”
“I prefer Santa, but Nic will do.”
OK, straight on. Not one of those cases where you needed to go fishing for symptoms.
“How long have you believed that you’re Santa Claus for?”
“I don’t believe I’m Santa Claus. I am Santa Claus.”
Bad approach.
“When did you realise you were Santa Claus? Have you known it all your life?”
“I always felt I was destined for something special, but until this year I didn’t realise what it was.”
“What made you realise?”
“I was transported to Lapland and shown the warehouse where all the presents are stored, and the workshop where the elves make them. Strange creatures, but very hard-working. A bit bad-tempered, though.”
Carmen could not help herself and started looking (she hoped discretely) around. Was there a camera somewhere? Was this a seasonal prank that would end up on You Tube? She couldn’t see anything evident, and Nic was keeping a very straight face. Buster Keaton couldn’t have done a better job.
“What do you mean by transported?”
“I was in my bedroom, watching the telly and suddenly, everything went dark around me, like if I were in a tunnel, and next thing, there I was!”
“It must have been cold.” Silly thing to say, but she never stopped herself from asking self-evident questions. The answers weren’t always that self-evident.
“Well, obviously I wasn’t really there. It was an out-of-body experience; my astral body was tele-transported. It was a mental thing.” Nic seemed to mix and match all kinds of concepts randomly, but Carmen decided to let him carry on.
“You said you were shown the warehouse and the workshop. Who showed them to you?”
“Didn’t I say? Father Christmas. He explained to me that his time for retirement had arrived and I had been chosen as his substitute.”
Carmen grabbed the observations chart. Everything seemed normal. They had done a urine drug test that was negative. It wasn’t drugs. Breathalyser was also negative and he did not appear drunk. And physical examination and blood tests were also normal. Nothing organic.
“Has anything else slightly out of the ordinary happened to you? Like hearing voices when there is nobody around, or seeing things that other people don’t seem to be able to see?”
“Well, since I met the old Father Christmas, I’ve been hearing his voice telling me what to do. He told me he would be with me and he has. And he guided me through the whole process yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes, yesterday evening I went distributing presents to all the children in the world!”
Carmen had always thought that one of the tricky parts of her job was to keep a straight face when patients told you fairly bizarre things with total conviction. Sometimes it was difficult. This was one of those times. She thought that if she asked any more questions about that right then, she might start laughing, so she tried to change the subject slightly.
“You must be feeling tired. Are you sleeping well?”
“I didn’t have time to sleep last night but usually…” He stopped himself to think. “Maybe I haven’t been sleeping quite as well as I used to.”
“And your appetite?”
“I’ve lost some weight, but nothing major. I preferred my mother’s cooking to mine. That’s all.”
“It’s quite usual. Did you move out of your parents’ house recently? You’re very young.”
“I’m 20. My parents and my younger brother, Callum, died in an RTA last Christmas Eve. I still live in the family home, but it’s not the same.”
Nic was looking down now and Carmen suspected he might be trying to hold back the tears.
“This must be a really hard time for you. The first anniversary. Were you very close to your family?”
“We were OK. We had our arguments like everybody else, but…we got on well.” He looked up. His eyes were bright, but no tears. Carmen felt sorry for him.
“Do you have any help? Did you get some bereavement counselling?”
“I’m sad still, evidently, but I’m not depressed, or hallucinating or mad. This is not grief. I’ve read about it. I don’t hear my parents’ voice or see ghosts or anything like that…”
He had done his research, so he must have had some doubts about his sanity at least.
“Is this the first time you’ve seen a psychiatrist?”
“Yes. Strange way to spend Christmas.”
“I agree.”
“I don’t have any mental health problems. And before you ask, I’m not aware that anybody in my family has ever had any either.”
“Have you lost interest in things you used to enjoy?”
Nic looked at her with a glint of suspicion.
“My sexual life is fine.”
“OK. I meant hobbies, work, studies, sport…”
“I’ve taken some time off from my studies. I’ve found it difficult to concentrate since the accident.”
Carmen looked at him, without saying anything. He sighed.
“I feel low sometimes. Not terrible, but…a bit sad. And tired. I used to play football but now…it’s too much of an effort. And to tell you the truth…I’m not that bothered about girls.”
“When people feel low sometimes they feel life is not worth living…Has that ever happened to you?”
Nic was trembling slightly and his voice was only a whisper.
“Some…sometimes. I thought about…You know…But now, all is different! I’m Santa and have such a great mission in life. I’m the happiest man alive! Yesterday night was the most amazing I’ve ever lived. Swishing around, dropping presents everywhere…Elves could hardly keep up! You wouldn’t believe how fast those reindeers are!”
Carmen let him talk. It seemed to soothe him and it was quite an entertaining account of a fantasy that made him feel better. He eventually stopped talking and looked at her, beaming.
“If I could I’d take you with me next year. You’d love it! But there are very strict rules. I shouldn’t be talking about this, but that guy bad-mouthing Christmas and talking about Santa saying it was an invention of Coca-cola and all about advertising and greed… He drove me mad! I could not put up with such insults.”
Carmen looked at Nic. She asked a few more questions to clarify the details of his symptoms. No, he did not think his actions or thoughts were being controlled or implanted. No, he did not think he could read other people’s thoughts or his thoughts were being broadcast to others.
“The old Santa’s voice, Nic, is it coming from outside of your head? Do you hear him like you hear me, or is it inside?”
“Well…I guess both…What I mean is…do you know when you’re listening to some external noise for a long time, or like in an airport, to the announcements, so long that eventually you’re not sure if you’re actually hearing it or it is inside of your head?” She nodded. “Well, it’s like that now. It seems to be everywhere.”
“I think I know the answer to this one, but have to ask… Are you distressed by the voice? Do you want it to go away?”
“It was a bit surprising to begin with but no…no. It’s very useful to be guided and he’s good company. Has a wicked sense of humour too!”
“I have to go and check something, Nic, but I’ll be back with you very shortly.”
Carmen left the cubicle and sighed. He was a nice guy. But right at that moment he needed a bit of help. If he had been with his family she would have sent him home and
organised an appointment with a psychiatrist after the holiday period. He wasn’t a danger to himself, and if his family had kept an eye on him he would have been unlikely to end up in another dangerous situation, but being alone…The last thing he needed was to land in jail, or hurt somebody badly and have to live with it. She made a few phone calls to check and managed to locate a free bed for him. She prepared a smile and went back into the cubicle.
“Nic…”
“Yes?” He looked expectant. Let’s see if she could sell him this.
“Nic, you’ve got into a bit of trouble assaulting that guy. I think you’re overtired, a bit emotional, and you’ve been a bit low. In my opinion you need rest, somebody to look after you for a few days, and someone to talk to about the things that have happened to you and your sad losses. I’ve found a bed in a hospital for you. It is a psychiatric unit, but this would be a voluntary admission, just until you get back on your feet, and nobody will force you to do anything you don’t want to. I’d sleep better tonight if I knew you were in a safe place with someone keeping an eye on you.”
Emotional blackmail was not her style but if it worked…
Nic looked at her and sighed. He looked relieved.
“If you think it would be good for me…”
She nodded.
“All right. I guess you’re right. I’m exhausted.”
“I’ll organise everything. You don’t need to worry.”
A few hours later Carmen left the hospital. It was the end of the on-call and she was finally on her way home. After picking up her handbag she walked across the deserted car-park towards her car.
“Finally alone.”
She turned to look but could not see where the voice might be coming from. It was a male voice she’d never heard before. Deep in tone. She must have been more tired than she realised. As she opened the door, the same voice said:
“No, it’s not tiredness. I’m real.”
She looked around…Still nobody. She could not avoid looking inside of her car and under it, whilst thinking that anybody looking at her would be having a good laugh at her expense. Still nothing.
She entered the car, sat down; left her handbag on the passenger seat and closing her eyes rested her head on the steering wheel.
“You’re not mad either. I’m real.”
OK, if he was going to play games…
“OK, then…who are you?”
“Oh, they know me by many names. Santa Claus, Father Christmas, St Nicholas…”
“If this is a very elaborate prank…”
“No, no. You’ve met Nic…He told you about me and my retirement. He did well but… No, he’s not the one for the job. He doesn’t have it in him.”
This was really weird. Nic hadn’t given details of his story to other people, so nobody else could be in on the joke. And she’d left him in an ambulance driving towards a neighbouring psychiatric unit. It had to be her own mind.
“Gosh, you’re hard. That’s the problem with scientists and medics. Evidence…” And there he was, sitting next to her on the passenger seat. Father Christmas. Yes, fat, booming voice, red suit, white hair and beard, pointy hat. The full compliment. “Call me Santa.”
Her heart was beating very fast and she could hardly breathe. Santa put a hand, that did not feel solid, more like energy, on her arm, and she felt suddenly calm and relaxed.
“Now, Carmen, I can see you don’t do nonsense. I need somebody like that. Practical, but with a heart. It’s time diversity and equal opportunities make it into the World of Christmas employment policy. I’m convinced you’ve got what it takes to become the first Mother Christmas. What do you say? Would you like to come for a visit?”
Carmen thought for a few seconds and then, mad as it sounded, she nodded. After all, she had no better offers to spend her day off. It should be much better than trying to avoid all the Christmas commercials. And maybe, if she asked nicely, they’d let her redesign the suit!
The End
JOHNNY’S JOURNEY AND REUNION
Oscar Wager II
It was a few days before Christmas, and Johnny’s parents were at it again, they were having an argument, and he didn’t want it to begin. Whenever they argued, the yelling would follow, and then the apologies, but they always seemed hollow. This time, as it seemed to be more often, the fight was about money, and they wouldn’t soften.
“Keep your voice down,” his mom said in a hushed voice, “Johnny is here, and Christmas is a time to rejoice. He doesn’t need to know the problems we face.”
But Johnny had heard the words of disgrace. He went to his hiding place as he did in these times where he had a music box, and he enjoyed the chimes. So, he wound up the gears, and listened, content, but all of this tension caused resentment. He wanted to get out of this house, and to do it, he would be as quiet as a mouse.
He took out a suitcase, and packed what he needed, he would need food and clothes, if his plan succeeded. His parents came into his room to say good night, but his thoughts were only of fleeing this site.
So, Johnny waited until his parents were asleep, and he grabbed his suitcase and started to creep down the hallway to the front door, and he tiptoed on the wooden floor. He closed the door slowly, not making a sound, and he stepped off of the porch onto the snow-covered ground. He walked as far as he could, until he could walk no more, so he stopped because he was tired, cold and sore. He hunkered down and sheltered himself from the wind, just as he’d been taught in the scouts, with his friend. But eight years old is too young to be alone, out in the elements where he was chilled to the bone.
Johnny awoke as the sun began to rise, and he was feeling good as he rubbed his eyes. He started again on his long trek from above he was just a little speck. The early morning had brought a dusting of snow, and the sun was causing the powder to glow. The fresh snow had covered his track; it would be harder now to follow from the back.
He was on a mission to reach his goal, and then he stepped into a ground hole. He pulled his foot out of the ground and checked himself out, and his leg was sound. So he once again was walking onto his ending point, and he hoped he would find this funky joint.
He checked his compass to stay on the right path. Although he didn’t like them, he could use a hot bath. It was getting colder the further he walked, so to keep his mind off it, he walked and talked. About nothing in particular, just things that he knew.
If he could see his own lips, he would see they were blue. But he must keep going, it was deep in his soul, his trek would only end at the North Pole. Johnny finally collapsed after walking all day, and he couldn’t go on, so here he would rest and stay.
As Johnny’s parents awoke that morning, they found a letter from Johnny giving a warning. I am going to find Santa Claus, read the note, Don’t try to find me, was what else he wrote.
“Oh my God,” cried Johnny’s mother, and his father held her tight, trying to calm her.
“He couldn’t have gotten far,” Johnny’s father said, and Johnny’s mother dropped the note on the bed.
The police told the father they would be out right away, but it did not relieve the mother’s cries, that day. They sat and waited for a few long moments until the police showed up to take their statements. The officer who took the initial report, he knew to what they had to resort.
They must pull together a search team before it’s too late, and they run out of steam. The first forty-eight hours are crucial at times like these. Hopefully the good Lord above will hear their pleas. So, they started to search for the missing boy, and, hopefully soon, they would feel joy. They called out his name as they went deeper in the woods, while Johnny’s mother lagged behind carrying baked goods.
She knew that little Johnny would be starved, so she carried a cake which she had carved. It was in the shape of ol’ St. Nick himself, a recipe she got from a book on her shelf. If Johnny wanted to see Santa Claus, this might be a boost to his cause.
They found Johnny whi
le he was out cold, so they picked him up and got a good hold. They carried him back to a place that was warm to keep him safe and out of the storm.
It took another two hours before Johnny awoke and another thirty minutes before he spoke. No one was around as he looked about, and he called and then began to shout.
How did he get to this warm abode? He wanted answers, and so he bellowed. If his parents had found him, why wasn’t he home?
This place was built small, as if for a gnome. And then what he saw as he began to arise, caused him not to believe his eyes. Next to a corner bookshelf, stood a tiny Christmas elf. She wore a green cap and green and white socks. Her outfit was red and what caused more shocks, she wore a name tag and it read My Name is: Bella, and as she stepped backed, she tripped on an umbrella.
Bella said, “Take it easy, young man. You are a guest in my home,” is how she began. “You were in the woods, passed out by a stump, heaped up in a pile like a little lump. I brought you here, to warm your soul, you need your rest; the weather has taken a toll.”
Johnny looked at Bella, and began to speak, “I am on a mission, and it is Santa Claus that I seek. I want to add something to my Christmas list, an item, that before, I didn’t know I wished. I can only tell him, and I am quite hurried. It is important, and I am worried. Can you show me the way to the North Pole? He is the only one who can make my life whole.”
“I can show you the house where the old man lives. He is in the business where he gives and gives. I will take you there, later, when you are rested and fed,” were the next words that Bella said.
The searchers laid out a pattern, a widespread grid with each volunteer calling out for the kid. Where could he be? He could not have walked this far, his father thought, as he saw the night’s first star. He made a simple wish, “Please bring him home, unharmed,” which he whispered, so his wife would not be alarmed.
A deputy called out, “Lieutenant, come quick,” and what they saw hit them like a brick. There was the suitcase that Johnny had taken, of that the parents were not mistaken.
There was a disturbance nearby in the snow, where a small child could have lain, as the wind did blow. So this impression was not disturbed by the storm. How could someone so small, still be warm? But he must have moved on from his resting place, and his mother imagined his beautiful face. So angelic were his features and so frail. How could he have withstood last night’s gale?