Page 2 of Naughty Elf: Wink
“Okay, so put me in a different department. I’m willing to do anything.” I was starting to feel an uneasy sense of desperation creeping in.
“Like where?” he asked with a touch of exasperation. “You’ve already worked in every department we have, and none of them have been a good fit for you.” He sighed heavily and walked back around his desk, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small leather bag. “I really am sorry, Wink, but I’m afraid I have to let you go.”
My fists clenched at my sides, and I felt my anger rising. Instead of apologizing and begging for another chance, I opened my mouth and snapped, “This is bullshit! You need me! It’s almost Christmas!” I knew immediately that I had crossed a line.
Oops!
Nostrils flaring, Santa’s beard quivered in outrage as he sputtered, his face turning a deep shade of ruby-red. I’d never seen him this angry. “Cursing is not allowed!” he thundered. “Wink, you are very, very naughty.”
I gasped, rearing back. Naughty? Me?
“My workshop is family-friendly, and it has become clear to me that you don’t fit in at the North Pole. I think we will all be better off without your kind of help. You’re not the only one who had to be letgo. All the Santas agreed that some changes needed to be made, and I’m afraid you’re just too disruptive for our needed level of efficiency. You’re fired.”
“Fired?! For how long?” I asked, my heart like a jackhammer in my chest.
“For forever.” He pulled on the leather bag’s drawstring and reached inside, and when he withdrew his hand, I saw he held something glittery and golden in his hand. He stepped right up to me, staring down with a look of regret. “I’m truly sorry, Wink, but I know in my heart that there is somewhere else out there for you. You are destined for another life, a better one, and I truly hope you find it. You have until next Christmas to prove to me that you’re made for something more, but even more importantly, to prove it to yourself.”
Santa opened his palm and blew a great gust of air, sending the golden powder raining down on me. It caught in my lashes and tingled where it touched my skin.
“I—what?” I sneezed, then blinked, then with a firm tug in my chest, my whole body tilted sharply to the side. I was falling! But instead of hitting the floor, I just kept right on going, twisting and turning through the ether, a swirl of light and color painted on the inside of my eyelids.
It was strangely beautiful, and instead of feeling fear or anger, I felt… calm, and a sense of blissful peace swaddled me in its embrace.
That was until I jerked to a stop and found myself unable to move. Surrounded by prickly pine needles, I was shocked to find that I was no longer made of flesh and blood, but ceramic, and I was currently dangling from the saddest looking Christmas tree I’d ever seen.
Well, this sucks.
2
Derek
Whistling along with the Christmas carols pumping from my stereo, I sashayed across my kitchen and swung open the oven, sliding in the tray of sugar cookies. Closing the door, I crouched down and peeked through the window, willing them to bake faster. There was nothing tastier than a cookie fresh from the oven.
Chewy, my tabby cat, slunk over and rubbed his cheek on my leg, begging for pets—or snacks. “No cookies for you, Mr. Man,” I said, scritching him behind the ears. He let out a short meow, eyes closing, his entire body rattling with his almost aggressive purr.
Yawning, I stood up, and because I couldn’t wait the eight minutes it would take for my cookies to bake, I reached into the giant mixing bowl on the island counter and ate a pinch of dough, even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to. I sighed. It wasn’t the same.
Forcing myself to be patient, I rolled out the next batch of cookies, these ones destined to become reindeer. After the reindeer, I wouldmake a tray of Christmas trees, then snowflakes, then finally one of Santas.
As if there could be more than one Santa, I thought with an eyeroll.
When the timer beeped, I felt a thrill of excitement and skipped the short distance to the oven, swapping out trays and setting my first batch on the cooling rack. They were shaped like elves, and as soon as they were cool, I would get to decorate them. I was already imagining them with their little hats and button noses.
This was what I did—I baked. As my paid job, but also as my hobby. And not just at Christmas. I loved Halloween, with its pumpkin spice cinnamon buns and pies, then Valentine’s Day with red velvet cupcakes topped with cinnamon hearts. Easter was fun too, with pastel eggs in their coconut nests.
But these elves… yeah, they were my very favorite.
I found myself smiling. As tired as I had been when I woke up this morning, the anticipation was starting to give me a boost. It was Christmas Eve! This was the best time of year, and not just because of the cookies. It was tinsel and lights, roaring fireplaces and hot apple cider. And snow!
But when the song changed and “Blue Christmas” came on, my mood took a dive. My smile instantly sagged. It was like a direct hit to my heart. It was yet another reminder that I didn’t have anyone to share the holiday with, not even my parents. They’d won tickets to a tropical cruise, and as bad as they felt about leaving me here, I’d told them they couldn’t pass up on an opportunity like this. They’d never be able to afford a holiday like that on their own.
I peeked down at where Chewy was winding his way between my legs. “It’s just you and me this Christmas, buddy.” And because he was cute and I was feeling lonely and wanted to feel loved, I gave him a couple treats from the cupboard.
An hour later, I was almost done icing all the cookies when my phone rang. I was grateful for the break since my hands were cramping around the piping bag. Flexing and stretching my fingers, I smiled when I glanced at the screen and saw it was my parents calling.
“Hey!” I said, answering the video call.
“Merry Christmas!” they both yelled, their beaming faces filling the screen, their skin already sun-kissed after a week of tropical weather.