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Revenge of the Elves

by Tara Jackson Reavis Love 5 months ago in fiction
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A Long-Awaited Change

Revenge of the Elves
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

On the northern edge of the world lies the home of Santa Claus, a vast land of snow, magic, and wonder. Every year, Santa leaves his home to deliver toys to every kid around the world. He spends months carefully overseeing every child, making sure they’ve been nice that year. If so, he gives them the toy that they’ve most desired. But Santa can’t do all of this by himself, and that’s why the elves were born.

The traditions of Santa Claus go back thousands of years. Back then, Santa would make all of his toys by hand and exclusively from wood. He would hand-deliver the toys to all of the children in the nearby towns. It simply started as a good deed, but the word of Santa's actions spread far and wide. Once he died, his soul was blessed, and he was allowed to live forever, eternally gifting children with precious trinkets.

Since then, technology has evolved, and wooden toys aren't as popular as they used to be. Because of the rapid change, Santa desperately needed help. So he took some snow and filled it with all things good in the world. Magic, love, and the joy of the world's children were stuffed into the cold frame. The snow began to melt, and from beneath came Trumpet, the first elf.

Trumpet revolutionized the way Santa managed Christmas. Because of his construction, he could live forever, meaning that his joy and wonder would never die. With his help, Santa could always make the perfect toy, as Trumpet knew what made kids happy. Together, they made Christmas what it is today. Over time, more and more elves were created. Some were created to travel to children's houses directly and report back their behavior to Santa. Others were made to create delicious candy that fed all of the elves. All together, they made Christmas a holiday that could never be forgotten.

But after a while, things began to change. As the legend of Santa Claus traveled through the world, the man himself began to change. He began to disregard his elves, forgetting all of the work they had done. He pushed all of his duties onto them, making their lives hectic and exhausting. But in the end, the elves could do nothing. He was Santa Claus, and they were just nameless elves, made to serve the man they had grown to despise. The power had gone to his head, and he was in desperate need of a reality check. The only question is, how do you bring a god back down to earth?

Finally, after centuries of labor, someone stepped up. Out of the hundreds of elves made per year, one was different. Being one of the toy elves, Nutmeg wasn't made to feel special. Her only job was to crank out toys on the whim of her supervisors. Growing up, she had heard the legends of Santa Claus and was taught that being an elf was a great honor. But when she was old enough to become an honorific toymaker, she saw that he wasn't a legendary figure. He was nothing more than a selfish tyrant that abused the ones who helped him. This crushed her reality, and she began to question why elves even existed. If they were strictly for the use of one man, that wasn't honorable. It was torturous. Nutmeg didn't understand why the other elves were silent. They had been made to run the entire north pole for centuries, and yet, no one said a word. Unlike the others, Nutmeg wouldn't be silent. Christmas was supposed to be about family, and she wanted nothing more than to bring hers together.

One day, a week or so before Christmas, the workshop was on overtime. The elves needed to make the last of the toys, and they were franticly trying to get them all done. But as she was working, Nutmeg suddenly stopped. Gumdrop, the elf who worked alongside Nutmeg, was confused. "What are you doing?" He asked. "I'm done working," she replied. Gumdrop was shocked. "W-what do you mean you're done working? You can't just stop. We need to get these toys done," he replied. Nutmeg, after all of the stress, snapped at Gumdrop. "WE need to get them done?!" She asked, raising her voice. "If Santa were here, he could get these toys done in a flash. But instead, he sits in that damned office of his doing nothing!" Other elves were beginning to look towards her. "Nutmeg, I know you're stressed, but we need-," started Gumdrop before being interrupted. "What we NEED is a break!" Yelled Nutmeg, throwing her unfinished toy to the ground. Gasps from other elves filled the workshop. Before anyone could interject, Nutmeg addressed the crowd. "I know you all feel the same. We have been overworked for centuries, all while Santa reaps the benefits," she said. The other elves shot back with the same praises of Santa that she had heard for years. At this point, Nutmeg was furious that the other elves were too scared to speak the truth. "Quit lying to yourselves! You know that Santa doesn't care about us. All he cares about is the glory of his name," "So I don't know about you, but I'm tired of being treated like a toy!" she yelled.

Silence fell over the elves. Nutmeg stood there, fully expecting to be ridiculed and outcasted. But instead, she heard the cracking of wood. One elf, an older worker named Frost, joined Nutmeg and threw his unfinished toy to the ground. Then another elf did the same, then another and another. Soon all of the elves began throwing their toys to the ground, all in support of Nutmeg. Gumdrop, however, had yet to break his toy. Nutmeg looked at him, nodding with assurance. He carefully lifted his toy into the air, hesitating as he did so. With a final burst of courage, he threw his toy to the ground. The workshop sounded like a new year's celebration, as all of the firework-like sounds of toys breaking filled with air. Nutmeg had done it. She had united the elves together, and they finally had a voice. But then, a harsh cold fell over the elves. "SILENCE!" yelled a voice. On the balcony overlooking the workshop stood Trumpet, the first elf. "I don't know what you all are thinking, but if you go against Santa's orders again, you will be punished," he said sternly. All of the elves fell silent once again. Trumpet was the oldest elf, and therefore, had a lot of power in the north pole. He was second only to Santa himself, and his word was final. "Now clean up this mess and get back to work," Trumpet said before leaving the workshop. As quickly as it had started, the uprising was shut down. The elves began to pick up the broken toys, and Nutmeg stood in shock. "It's useless," she thought.

Things were futile until the night of Christmas Eve. The elves were scrambling around, making sure that everything was in its place. Nutmeg was wrapping presents and sending them off to Santa's sleigh, all the while pondering on what she could do. But then, she got an idea. All of the presents went directly to Santa's sleigh, which meant they were in direct contact with him. If she could get into the sleigh, she could confront her creator once and for all. She quickly hopped into an empty box and was whisked away into Santa's chambers. With a thud, she landed on his sleigh. She hesitantly peaked out and finally got a look inside of Santa's office. It was lavish and decorated with the fanciest things you could imagine. The big man himself was sitting at his desk, talking with Trumpet, his most trusted advisor.

"Another one down," said Santa, chuckling. "Indeed sir. Everything is on schedule," replied Trumpet. Santa thought for a moment, looking towards his sleigh. Nutmeg quickly hid behind the mountain of gifts and continued eavesdropping. "I am suspicious of that one girl. Nutmeg was it?" He asked Trumpet. Trumpet simply brushed it off, stating that she wouldn't be a problem. "She's a mear toy elf. Who would ever listen to her?" Trumpet asked. Santa's demeanor grew colder, and he stood up from his desk. "I'm not so sure. She, and the other elves, threw dirt on my name. We can't be having that, right girl?" Santa asked, staring at his sleigh. Nutmeg froze in fear. How did he see her? She was sure she had been silent. Santa began making his way towards the sleigh, with Trumpet in tow. She franticly burrowed through the toys like a worm in desperate need of safety. She held her breath and prayed that she wouldn't be found. But suddenly, a hand grabbed her collar. She was hoisted out of the toys and was now face to face with Santa Claus himself.

"You can't hide from me," he said coldly. "I know who's been naughty, and you're at the top of my list." At first, Nutmeg was terrified. But then she realized that this may be the only chance she will have to speak to her creator. She stopped struggling and stared Santa in the eyes. "How can you be so full of yourself?" She asked. "You've just been sitting in here doing nothing while we do all the work!" She screamed. Wordlessly, Santa threw her to the ground. He kneeled and stared at her. Nutmeg felt as if he was staring into her soul. "And what are you going to do about it?" he asked coldly. "You are nothing but an elf. A mere toy made only to serve me." In fear, Nutmeg began crawling towards the door. Before she could make it, Santa seized her.

"DON'T MOVE!" Santa yelled. "I am Santa Claus. My name is known across the world. Do you think that you can compare yourself to me?" He asked. Nutmeg was trapped, and she accepted that it was hopeless. Santa was a god. What could an elf like her do? "Do you understand? You are nothi-." Santa suddenly stopped. His grip on Nutmeg's leg released, and he collapsed to the ground. Standing behind him, knife in hand was Trumpet.

Because of his blessed soul, Santa is immortal. He has lived for thousands of years, yet he remains the same as he did in life. The joy and happiness he brings children are what give his soul power. But that would come to be his downfall. Because of his joy-filled soul, anything malicious is his sworn enemy. And nothing in this world is more malicious than coal. That black rock has been used as a punishment for centuries and has garnered the anger of millions around the world. So when Trumpet impaled Santa with a knife forged from coal, it proved to be his end.

Once Santa collapsed, Nutmeg quickly jumped to her feet. She was scared but mostly confused. Trumpet, Santa's most loyal elf, has betrayed him. Santa found the strength to turn over and was now face to face with Trumpet. "H-how could you?" He asked. A pool of blood began forming under him, and his skin began to go pale. Trumpet simply stared at him, unmoving. "Because you were wrong," he replied. Santa tried to stand, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed back to the ground. "Your praises may be sung across the world. But those are all lies," Trumpet said, kneeling to face his creator. "How can you be so confident in your status when you can't even bring joy to those who help you?" He asked coldly. Santa suddenly grabbed Trumpet, holding him with the last of his strength. "I-I am the spirit of Christmas. You can't kill me," he said, breathing heavily. Without fear, Trumpet stared at Santa. "Your soul is tainted by greed. You are naughty Saint Nicolas, and naughty people deserve coal," Trumpet said, driving the coal knife into his heart.

With one last breath, the legendary Santa Claus had died. Nutmeg stood in shock. She had wanted to bring justice to the evil saint, but she had never thought he could be killed. Trumpet, covered in blood, stood up and finally addressed Nutmeg. "Well, it's over," he said. Before Nutmeg could interject, Trumpet walked past her. "Come, we have work to do," he said.

The next few hours were hectic. News of Santa's death spread through the entire north pole. The elves were confused, angry, and most of all terrified. How could Christmas come if Santa was gone? But amidst the confusion, someone stepped up. They were different than the other elves and had to ability to bring them together. With their help, the elves were able to unite, and Santa's sleigh took to the skies. But instead of an old tyrant, Nutmeg the elf took the reins.

fiction

About the author

Tara Jackson Reavis Love

Overworked scientist and her son who both love to write!

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