Last Christmas

December 25th, 2024. 05:17

‘Thank goodness you ate all the carrots, Rudolph and guided me around Earth. We’ve just made the final delivery, and all before the signs of that thick fog reforming. 

What a night it’s been! Not as many mince pies or glasses of brandy as previous years, but at least Mrs Demurrer left out some of her homemade Christmas cookies for me again. She never fails to bake cookies for me and leave some carrots for you all despite claiming to loathe Christmas and baking. 

However, those cookies tasted slightly different this year, but Mrs Demurrer never fails us, does she? Did your carrots taste the same as they usually do? No, you won’t find her on the naughty list.

Never seen a full moon quite like this one. It looks a bit mysterious like it should be shining on Halloween, not on Christmas night. But it’s always our sign that we’re on the correct route to the North Pole.

That way, boys, towards the moon, and we’ll soon be home.’ 


December 25th, 2025. 05:17

Christmas would never be the same for millions of people on Earth. 

Empty stockings hang over fireplaces and at the end of beds. Floors showed fallen pine needles and broken baubles rather than gifts underneath millions of Christmas trees. 

Nobody would find out that the strange moon that followed Santa’s sleigh the previous year was the type many claimed to see when they departed this world.

Looking out of her kitchen window, Mrs Demurrer switched on the kettle and looked out at the strange full moon fading away as thick fog formed around it. Chuckling to herself, she picked up the plate the Christmas cookies had been placed on the previous night and slid them into the kitchen bin. She knew this was the last Christmas she’d have to bake Christmas cookies.

Image for the short story Last Christmas, showing Santa on his sleigh being pulled by three reindeers
Last Christmas

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