Dear Our Saviour

I’ve been debating whether or not I should document this, but if one day I cease to exist, someone should know the key.

I know it is my responsibility, but today something changed. Or I guess more accurately, nothing changed.

Christmas used to be vibrant, a time where people’s smiles shined just as bright as the multicolored lights lining the evergreens and rooftops of neighborhoods. Today as my team cleared up the rubble from the neighborhoods that no longer exist, my colleagues mourned instead of celebrated. Instead of toys wrapped in decorative paper, we found skeletons stained with soot. In the building we were assigned, we found the husk of what appeared to be an old woman, with a heart-shaped locket clutched in her hand. The picture inside was a crucifix, and many couldn’t help but cringe at the irony. In the old religious stories, the woman devoted her life to say that bad things happen because of men; and maybe that used to be true. Men were the ones who dropped the bombs. Men were the ones who chose money and power over life. However, men did not plan on the land becoming humanity’s enemy too. On the day the religious used to celebrate their Lord’s birth, they traded fireplaces for firestorms. The smoke is not the burning of frankincense, but the burning of the innocent as they plead for mercy, yet the Earth is not sentient, and death does not discriminate. They say the babe came to save the world, yet here he is ending it. No one is seen worshipping now.

The non-religious have abandoned the desire to give. The season used to compel them to help the less fortunate, but what the scientists describe as our post-war nuclear winter has frozen their willingness to sacrifice. And honestly, I don’t blame them. As I walk along the frozen banks of the old pond, I have to remind myself that they don’t know what I know. I realized one day someone might need to know what I know. Right now, all they know is that now they don’t have goodies in their stockings; they only have stockpiles of the corpses of their people they pray will one day strengthen the earth again, so they don’t starve. You can survive an empty grieving heart, but an empty belly is not as forgiving.

I didn’t know if it would be worth it to immortalize this final hope, but on my radio, the tune of the old carol “White Christmas” filled my tent, and despite the way my stomach turned as I saw my feet turn black with ash, I gave in to my urge to dance.

As I stepped and swayed, I forced myself to remember that the end of the world is not the end of the world. For the todays and tomorrows I’ll dance. To the elders and the teenagers, I’ll toast.

And for the babies, I have decided I can be brave.

So yes, I know how to save us all.

If this is being read, something has gone astronomically wrong. This might even be risking too much, but if you are meant to find this you will know how to solve the clue:

The corner of Rudolph and Blitzen will melt and freeze the children.

I’m trusting that it is enough. Read it carefully. Use the snow for guidance, and if you’re lost, the seal will point you home.

If somebody is reading this, I am truly sorry I couldn’t finish this task for you, and I need you to know I tried. I tried so hard, and if you are reading this, tell my Cecilia I love her.

More than anything though, please tell her I fought.