📰 THE DAILY NEWS 📰

Issue #175                                ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO PRINT!                                       6/30/2018

SANTA CLAUS IS DEAD!

The future of a treasured holiday is uncertain today as City Hall confirms and obituaries round the world announce the death of Kristopher Kringle, known to some as @Kris_Kringle and others as simply Santa.  Father Christmas has brought joy to people all over the world in the form of gifts every December 25th.  Each year, his unfathomable feat included flying around the globe in a sleigh pulled by eight tiny magical reindeer.  

While many had come to believe that Santa Claus was merely the fictional retelling of the deeds done by a Catholic Saint or by legendary mythological creature, the discovery of his body in Las Vegas this week leaves no further room for debate.  According to Agent Mathew Gerard of the FBN, Father Christmas may have been involved with some sordid affairs and as such met his end in the streets - gunned down by gangsters! 

"This menace to our streets, brought by immigrants to our shores, has finally rose to a level that no one can deny it's evil.  When someone as good and kind as Santa has fallen in with these filthy criminals, what further proof do we need that these men and women must be removed from our society with extreme prejudice."  Gerard recently received a promotion to the Head of Organized Crime in the FBN's Detroit field office and he vows to "not rest until those who ended Christmas forever pay for their vile deeds."

A funeral will be held for Father Christmas at Backner Brother's mortuary on Main Street in Detroit.  His body will be placed in a glass casket paid for by donations made by community leaders who loved the universal symbol of selfless giving.

Truly it is a sad day for the world.  Santa is no more.

Laura O'Hanlon put the paper aside and scrubbed her little blue eyes.  How could it be?  "Mama?"  She said softly standing at the door to the kitchen.  "Mama?"

"Honey, why don't you go outside and play with the kids next door."  She said juggling a baby on her hip and trying to make lunch.

"But Mama, the newspaper says..."

"Put your father's paper back!"  She snapped.  "You KNOW how he gets when his paper is moved.  Now, go outside and play!"

Laura walked back into the den and put the newspaper down.  She stared at the headline again and again.  It felt like her heart might tear straight out from her chest and shatter into a million glittery pieces all over the wooden floor boards.  It just couldn't be him!  It just COULDN'T.  Walking into her mama's room quiet as she could she reached into her purse and pulled out her coin satchel.  Inside her chubby fingers secured a few shiny coins and them put everything back where she found them.

Heading out the door she heard her mother yell, "Be back by dark!"

She looked into her hand.  Five pennies, two quarters, and a Buffalo Nickel.  She hoped it would be enough.  

"Where you going Laura?"  a little boy called out from a nearby fire hydrant that had been opened to put cool water into the road for the children to play in.

"None of your bees wax, Jimmy Duff!"  She said sticking out her tongue.

"Did you see Santa is dead?"  Tommy Gallaway laughed.

She put her hand on her hips.  "You said he didn't exist!"  She shouted with tears forming in her eyes.  "Now look!  You're gonna be sorry when you get no gifts this year!"

"It ain't him, Laura."  Jimmy said in a kind voice.  "He's not real.  The paper just write that stuff to sell more issues, that's what my Dad says."

"And no one is getting gifts this year... not with everyone's dads in the soup line."  Tommy scoffed.

"IT IS SANTA!"  Laura sobbed.  "And now he's dead - don'tchu guys have no heart at all?!?  He's dead!  Christmas is over forever!"

Jimmy walked over to Laura.  "Don't cry.  Look, if you want we'll go with you down to the place where they are letting folks see him, that way you can see it's not him."

Laura opened her hand and showed the coins.  "I was gonna buy a taxi ride to there if I got enough."

"That ain't enough."  Tommy said walking over.  "But I'll get ya there if you'll make a bet with me.  If we get there and it ain't Santa, you pay me those coins."

"And if it is?" Laura asked.

"I'll fight any boy who tries to tell you he's not real ever again."

"Anyone?"

"Anyone."  Tommy said.

"It's settled then."  Jimmy said brightly.  "Now how you gonna get us there?"

"We're gonna steal a car!"  Tommy said excitedly racing off down the street leaving Laura and Jimmy to follow.

"I don't know about this."  Laura said sliding across the seat of Tommy's dad's Ford Model 18.  She's heard Tommy's dad was a Made Man under Don Salvatore Luciano, and by the look of this car, he probably was.

"You don't think you're old man will mind?"  Jimmy asked.

"He won't know!"  Tommy laughed.  "He's too drunk from poker last night.  Don't be such a pussy.  You ready?"  Tommy reached down awkwardly to touch the gas and the car lurched forward hard and into traffic.  Jimmy and Laura screamed grabbing onto each other.  "WOO HOO!"  Tommy screamed.

Amazingly, Tommy seemed to know something of driving.  He kept the car in its lane and moved down the street smoothly enough, stopping at the stop signs and making sure not to run anyone over when they came out into the street suddenly.  Laura started to find her courage and looked out the windows and smile.  The children laughed as the wind whipped in the windows and cooled the intense summer sun on their skin.

"Why do you care so much about Santa anyway?"  Jimmy asked after a time.

"Why don't you?"  Laura replied.

"Is it the presents?"  Tommy asked.  "It is, isn't it?"

"No." She sighed.  "You'll think I'm stupid."

"No we won't."  Jimmy said.

"Yes we will, but that's only cause we already do - whatcha got to lose, Dollface?"

Laura wrinkled her nose at being called dollface.  Now Tommy was showing off and trying to sound like a gangster.  "I met him once."

"Woah!"  Jimmy said.  "Really?"

"No way!  Your dad was just dressed up and playin'."

Laura shook her head vigorously.  "No!  Really it was Father Christmas.  I woke up on Christmas Eve and found him putting gifts under the tree.  He was really surprised to see me and he explained that I shouldn't be awake.  When I tried to apologize he told me that it wasn't exactly my fault and I shouldn't feel bad.  He said it was the magic failing."

"Magic failing?"  Jimmy asked.

"Said that during all this sad times, people having no money and what have you... well, people don't believe in nothing no more and so, things like kids waking up to see him and him getting stuck in chimneys was happening all the time... and worse."

"Worse?  Tommy asked.

"I don't know."  Laura said.  "He was so sad I warmed up his milk and gave him cookies and told him that if moms and dads had money again maybe then kids wouldn't be so afraid and could believe."  She looked down at her lap.  "Maybe I'm the reason this happened/"

"No way."  Jimmy said.  "How do you figure him being dead is your fault?"

"The paper says he was in with the Mafia.  What if I gave him the idea to get the money to help people that way?  What if he became a gangster to earn the money to save Christmas and then he died."

Tommy was silent for a moment before finally saying, "If Santa was Made, no dame got him into it.  He was a real man.  You can't take credit for Santa's button."

"So that's how you think you'll know... cause you met him."

Laura nodded.  "If the man in the coffin is the guy I knew... then... then it's true."

"Then what?"  Tommy asked.  "I mean other than you paying me."

"What else could there be?"  Jimmy says.  "He's dead, the world sucks more."

"I don't know."  Laura said scrubbing a tear from her eye.  "I just don't know."

╭-°—✞—˚✧  ✧˚—✞—°-╮

In Remembrance of

Kris_Kringle

Immortal In Our Hearts

╰-°—✞—˚✧  ✧˚—✞—°-╯

Don't grieve for me,
for now I sleep.

I took God's hand when I heard him call;
I turned my back and left it all.
If parting here has left a void;
Then fill it with remembered joy.
My life's been full, I savored much;
Good friends, Good times
a loved one's touch.
A friendship shared, a laugh a kiss;
Ah yes, these things, I too, will miss.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief;
Don't show me how, with undue grief.
Lift up your hearts and believe in me;
If you need me now, I shall be free.

 

The three children got into a very long line that wound round the block, as long as any soup line in town.  People were singing Christmas songs, some were gossiping about who was inside and whether it was really HIM or not.  Someone was handing out small memorial cards with a poem on them - in remembrance of Kris Kringle.  It was a pretty cream colored card that smelled of peppermint.  Laura kept sniffing it and remembering how the man she'd met that late night also smelled of the same.

As they came closer to the door they could see the real reason the line was so long.  Food.  So much food it about made Laura's eyes bug out of her head.  She grabbed the arm of a woman in front of her in the line.  "Ma'am... did the church bring that food?"

The woman shook her head no.  "I heard someone in the line saying that it was from his money, that in his will'd it to the people of Detroit so no one would be hungry tonight.  Seems everyone in town is down here eating on the old guy's dime.  I don't know that he was Santa, but he sure pulled off a Christmas miracle for all of us.  May God Bless the crazy old man."

Laura turned to her friends, "You see, he is Santa!  Who leaves all his money to feed the poor BUT Santa?!?"

"Crazy Mobsters?"  Tommy offered.

"Nice old men with no family."  Jimmy said as they walked forward a bit more.  

Then it hit Laura like a ton of bricks!  "HE DOES HAVE A FAMILY!"  She bounced up and down.  "His wife!  Mrs. Claus!!!  I'm sure she'll be here!  She's gotta have come to say goodbye to her husband, they loved each other so much!  We just need to find her then you'll believe!"

"So what if we believe Laura, he's dead!"  Tommy said with pain in his voice.  "God you really are a baby!"

"Christmas matters.  Magic matters, Tommy!  Why are you such a stick in the mud!"

"Santa ain't never brought me NOTHING so I'm telling you he ain't real!"

Laura closed her mouth.  She thought about telling Tommy maybe he never made the nice list but that didn't seem right.  Sure Santa must have had Tommy on the nice list at some point.  Babies can't do nothing to deserve a lump of coal.  Laura reached out and touched Tommy's hand, he tore it away and ran off into the crowd.

"TOM COME BACK!"  Jimmy yelled. "WE'LL LOSE OUR PLACE IN LINE TO SEE SANTA!"

"I'll go after him.  Hold our spot Jimmy."

"WHAT IF I GET IN BEFORE YOU'RE BACK?!?"  He yelled after Laura dashing into the crowd.  

"THEN SAY SOMETHING NICE!"  She yelled back as she disappeared from Jimmy's view.

The line moved forward ever so slowly.  Jimmy wondered where Laura and Tommy got off to and how it was he could even tell if this old man was Santa or not.  Plenty of old men were jolly in build and had white hair... how would this old man be different?  Surely he'd look like all the pictures of Santa - that was why the adults were saying he was dead.

And yet, he dared not move.  He had not had breakfast and the thought of food at the other side of the line made him happy... the thought of seeing a dead body, however, did not.  He'd never seen a man dead before.  Just a cat.  Someone had killed it on the street and he and a few of the guys took to poking it with sticks until Old Man Witherspoon chased them off.  

He entered the chapel and looked around at the sea of mourners.  There were so many more than he ever expected!  Surely, he had thought, most folks would have been like Tommy.  Most folks wouldn't have believed this old man to be anything more than just some friendly old man with a likeness to Santa.  He'd thought they were here just for the free food... but this, this wasn't that at all!  They were crying and holding each other, leaving toys along side the coffin.  It was as if the whole blessed world had lost it's mind!

As he came crosser and closer to the coffin he found himself looking at a group of very short men, all of which wore fedoras that covered the tops of their ears leaving him to wonder, COULD THEY BE ELVES?  No.  No... he was sure that was just his imagination.  It had to be.  As he came along side the coffin, he forced himself to look.  Inside there was a body - it didn't feel like a real person per say, more like a thing.  Strange he should consider him that... surely he had been someone's son or husband, and yet it felt like the body was no more real than a chair or a table.  A shell really.

"You can touch him, you know?"  A kindly old voice beside him said.  Jimmy looked up to the old woman behind him in the line.  She wore ragged clothes, and smelled of the streets.  She had a wild look in her eyes that let him know she wasn't quite right in the head.  It was sad how many people were like that these days... broke and desperate.  To see an old woman in such a state was even more regretful.

"I don't know..."  Jimmy says.  "He seems... weird."

"That's because he's not there any more.  He's left that old broken down body and flown away."  

There could be no doubt that she was crazy now.  Jimmy smiled at her and, to make her feel better.

"Did you know him?"  Jimmy asked, trying to show kindness to a woman who probably didn't ever see that much of it.

"Oh yes.  Very well.  Better than most, I think."  She looked so sad at the corpse.  "I think he would have liked you very much."

Jimmy laughed quietly, "I guess that means I was on his nice list?"

The old lady smiled and nodded.  "I doubt there was ever a year in your life that you didn't make it there.  You seem like a pure and good soul.  A kind heart ... a true believer."

He felt now he had to show the old woman some bit of kindness, something more than just words.  So, he worked up his courage and reached a trembling hand in and touched the corpse's skin.  As he did, Jimmy felt a tingle in his finger tips, and ice cold shudder ran down his spine.  It felt as if the room had been plunged into a lake of freezing water and he was naked in it.  He shivered.  The old woman smiled darkly.

"That's my very good boy, James."  She whispered.

Jimmy took a step back.  "I never told you my name."

His tone caused the short men to take notice and the chatter among them was almost discernible even at this distance.  Had they called her Mrs. Claus?

The friendly old woman nodded to his words.  Jimmy felt fixed to wet himself. under her clearly insane gaze.  Turning he ran out the door and pushed past the line of people getting food, none of which seemed very appetizing to him now.  

Hours had passed and Jimmy did not go home - he didn't dare.  He decided he'd been infected by something, a disease perhaps, the moment he touched Santa.  On his way to the tree house he stole three milk bottles from door steps and had drained each but still craved more milk!  He didn't want a damn thing to eat... but cookies.  His body was cold, oh so very cold and the heat almost hurt him... but worst of, the very worst, was all the images in his mind.  

He could see people and places and he knew he should not know them but he did.  He knew their names and where to find them, what they were doing and who they were doing it with.  Not all of the people were speaking English either and yet, he had no trouble knowing what they were saying.

He'd gone mad and he was dying.  He was so very afraid!  Who could he tell?  How could he tell them?  What would become of him?  Would his mother send him to the state mental hospital?  He laid on the floor and curled up into a ball and wept.  He hoped that if he was going to die, that it would come soon and make all of this stop.  

It was then he heard someone climbing up the ladder to the tree house, it wasn't a child because he was sure the sound of those feet weren't light.  They were heavy really.  He hid away behind a box they use to pretend was a car.  That's when she popped up into the tree house.   The crazy old woman.

"James... you don't need to be afraid of me."

"Don't come closer!"  He shouted.  "How do you know my name?!?"  

"I can't imagine how scared you are right now."  She said sitting down.  "The only name you need to know me by is Mrs. Claus.  It's the only identity I have anymore that matters to anyone living.  And as for the reason I know your name..."  she pulled out a scroll from her deep pockets on her apron.  She unrolled the top so he could read:

NICE LIST

"Why are you following me?"

"Because, my dear, you have been invested."

"Invested.  Yes... and what that means simply is this... YOU are now Santa Claus."

"I don't understand.  That's... that's crazy!  YOU'RE CRAZY!"

The old woman nodded and put her hands into her lap after putting away the nice list.  "I am... unfortunately, but we'll get to how you can help me with that in a bit.  Right now I think you need my help or you'll get a terrible burn on your skin and a headache that will last for days."

"How do you...??"

"Know about the freezing cold and the voices?"  She laughed.  "Kris told me a lot of things when we were younger, before I became ill.  We use to love and trust each other then.  Come now... have you ever meditated before?"

James shook his head.  

"This will take a while then... but we'll keep working on it until you get it.  In time you'll be able to tolerate any temperature in any place in the world wearing any clothes or no clothes at all.  And the voices you hear and the things you see... you'll only see them when you want to.  You're just not ready yet... but we'll get you there."

And so it was that Mrs. Claus began to teach James, all about the powers he possessed.  To know when men and women were sleeping, when they were awake and if they were bad or good.  He learned about his body's metabolism and how sugar kept him going and his body functioning.  He learned about his ability to speak, read, write, and understand every language known to man in all of history, and how the title of Santa was just that... a title, passed from one true believer to the next, a burden and a blessing to be bore.  

Kris Kringle had been the longest running Santa ever - and time had taken it's toll on her very human mind.  While Christmas magic had kept them both locked at a certain age, could not spare them mortal flaws like sickness, madness, and even death when it came through any other means than aging.

Days of work on his control of his powers & aging to adulthood at a mythical speed... but finally Jimmy was ready.

James stood in front of the hotel mirror admiring his adult body, while amused with the fact that he was secretly just a boy still.  He wondered how long he would feel this way - like a child - perhaps that also explained a bit of how Santa worked?  Always just a little big young at heart?  He ran a hand through his thick and scruffy looking red beard and hair.  He found one white hair and smiled.

"Don't worry,"  Mrs. Claus said behind him.  "It'll be white before Christmas Eve, I promise."

Her turned to look at the old woman and smiled at her.  "I know... I mean, I guessed.  So... what now?  Does this mean you and I go home to the North Pole and start making toys?"

"Goodness no.  The elves make the toys and trust you have quite the operation that never stopped working while you were away.  Santa came here to renew faith in Christmas... apparently seeing Santa and putting their hands on the truth, helped a lot.  It also brought out the stubborn in people... some folks don't think something is real until you tell them it's gone... then they refuse to believe it's gone.  Which, for us, is quite fortunate.  I'm not sure the investiture would have worked had there not been a surge in belief."

He walked over to the old woman and gave her a hug.  "I can't thank you enough for all of this.  I know we're very different in age and I don't hardly know you yet... but I promise I'll be a good husband.  As good as I think I can be."

Mrs. Claus laughed.  "Oh my!  Sweetie, you and I aren't married.  It might help if you think of Kris as your father... makes the understanding of all this a little easier.  That's the only reason we share a surname.  But no... one day, I know, you'll find a special girl to be your Mrs. and I dearly hope she is better to you than I was to Kris."

"You haven't seen too insane to me."

She blinked.  "You didn't lock me away... I have no reason to hate you James or to make you pay for what Kris did... but rest assured, I am not well.  I fight it every moment, which is why you must do this final thing to complete your journey to becoming Father Christmas."

James tilted his head to the side.  

"I need you to leave me here.  I know there is no way I can spare you the knowledge of what I'll do... but you must not stop me James.  I'm very tired and... my time is done."

"I don't like how that sounds."

"Nor should you.  Your the essence of goodness now... and I pray this world never again needs Santa to return, but if it does, know that your fate well could be like Kris' ... it's a one way trip when you leave the north pole to join the mob."

"How... how will I get back to the North Pole?"

Mrs. Claus pulled out a silver whistle from her pocket and gave it to James.  "Just blow that... the reindeer will find you, no matter where you are, so long as the magic and faith in Christmas is strong enough.  If you take it to the roof now, you should have plenty of darkness to cover your departure."

"Please... reconsider.  I don't want to be alone."

"You have all the children in the world with you James.  You always will, your friends, your family... and a workshop full of elves who are devoted to you and all you stand for.  You are never alone - there is always a world of people here who love you.  Wrap yourself in that truth when the loneliness becomes too much to bear.  Maybe, one day, take a vacation and come back... find that girl who makes your heart soar - and be good to her.  Hers is a hard road too... loving Santa isn't as easy as you might think."

James ran his thumb across the metallic side of the whistle.  "I'll miss you."

"God Bless you ... Santa."  She said to him inclining her head and opened the door to let him out of the hotel room.

James walked down the hall and climbed the service stairwell to the roof.  In the cool night air he blew the whistle and waited, until in a twinkling he saw a sleigh appear, pulled by 8 tiny flying reindeer!  When they stopped he came up to each and pet them and accepted their nuzzles of affection.  They knew him and he instinctively knew each of their names, even if he hadn't heard them all his life in story and song.

Climbing into the sleigh he took up the reins and drew a deep breath.  In his mind eye he could see her now, lifting Kris' gun to her temple.  A tear escaped James' eyes.  Laura had been right, sweet Laura with the sick mother who wanted nothing more than a cure for cancer for Christmas and a doll made of porcelain.  She'd been good all year and if not for her and the conviction of her belief... there might not be another Santa.  He'd have to see about a very special doll.

*BANG*

Santa called out, "ON DASHER, ON DANCER, ON PRANCER AND VIXEN, ON COMET ON CUPID ON DONNER AND BLITZEN!"  The reindeer lifted the sleigh into the sky high above Detroit and the moon seemed to grow in size to his vision.  "LET'S GO HOME BOYS."   Like a bolt of lightening he streaked across the sky heading north.  @Kris_Kringle was dead... but Santa had a lot of work to do now.  After all, Christmas Eve was only 175 days away.