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More importantly however, being three years younger than me, he was still very much a believer. My flat denials of the existence of Santa Claus only served as a challenge to him, and he was determined to prove otherwise.
 
We were heading up the stairs to bed when he got my attention. "Stay up with me!”" he said as he tugged at my pajama sleeve. "I’ll show you, he’s real. We’ll catch him in the act! I bet we’ll be the first ones to have ever done it! And I’m sure he’ll give us all kinds of stuff when we do.”"
 
I sighed. "I’d rather just get some sleep Chris,”" I told him. "You can go on believing if you want, but I don’t have to just to have a good Christmas.”" I always tried to avoid being such a damper on his spirit, and I thought convincing him to forget his harebrained schemes would be better than waiting up half the night just to see his disappointment.
 
"Oh, come on sis!”" he cried. "Do I always have to make you have fun? If it weren’t for me, you’d turn into a boring old lady just like Mrs. Henderson.”"
 
I must have made a disgusted face, because Chris laughed, gave a mischievous grin and said, "Well, what’s it going to be Mrs. Henderson? Are we gonna catch Santa in the act or not?”"
 
Mrs. Henderson was my 4th grade teacher and I despised the old crone with a passion. Chris knew how to push my buttons.
 
"All right short stuff, you’re on,”" I said with more bravado than I actually felt. "First to fall asleep has to wait till New Year’s to open their gift from Santa.”"
 
Chris’ eyes flashed with excitement at the wager. "I’ll take that bet!”"
 
So we went to our rooms to wait for our parents’ turn to go to bed. After the lights downstairs went out, I waited about a half hour just to make sure they were asleep, and I crept out of my bed and snuck my way downstairs. I saw that there was a light on in the living room. Chris was sitting casually near the fireplace.
 
"What took you so long?”" he asked. Always the confident one.
 
"I waited for mom and dad to get to sleep, idiot,”" I replied. "They’re not going to be too happy if they find us here.”"
 
With an unceremonious plop, I sat down on the couch, directly in front of the fireplace. "So how do you expect to stay up the entire night?”" I asked.
 
"I imagine I’ll figure it out,”" Chris said.
 
I’m not sure how long we waited there for the so-called St. Nick to appear, but Chris looked almost ready to doze off when we were shocked awake by something that must have been large and heavy hitting the roof. After a short pause there was a sound of shuffling and the scraping of feet. I was sure I heard the ringing of little bells.
 
"Oh man!”" Christ whispered in awe. "It’s really him!”"
 
For a moment I wondered why mom and dad weren’t awoken by any of this, all this racket was enough to wake the dead, but that train of thought stopped when chimney soot started sprinkling down into the fireplace.
 
Chris dashed over to me and shook my shoulders. "What did I tell you? He’s real! He’s real!”"
 
Unlike Chris, I didn’t think there was any supernatural explanation behind this strange occurrence. I was convinced it was a burglar finding their way in through unconventional means. I sat stiffly staring at the fireplace for a few moments unsure of what to do, until I rose and dived underneath the couch to hide.
 
"What are you doing?”" Chris cried in bewilderment. "He’s coming!”"
 
"Get down!”" I whispered fiercely at him. "We don’t know who that really is!”"
 
Chris opened his mouth to protest but a voice let out a grunt from the chimney, and it spooked him enough to find a spot of his own. He hid behind dad’s large leather lounge chair in the corner.
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I wanted to call out to him, to tell him to stay right where he was, that these two were strangers, that there was no way to tell what would happen once they knew we were there, but that would have given us both away. It’s not like he wouldn’t have listened to me either. How many kids out there can’t help but trust Santa Claus?
 
"Wow…”Wow…" he whispered to our bizarre intruders. "It’s really you!”"
 
At this both Santa and his elf turned to find Chris standing in the middle of the room. Both had this faux expression of surprise that only served to unsettle me further.
 
"Waiting up for us I see,”" Santa commented with a warm smile.
 
"Yeah!”" Chris said cheerfully. "I wanted to prove that you were really real and everything!”"
 
"And it seems you have.”" Santa replied with a chuckle. He sat down in my father’s chair and motioned to Chris to sit with him, to which he obliged.
 
"Oh man, I’ve got so many questions!”" Chris exclaimed. "Are the reindeer on the roof? Can I see them? What’s it like living at the North Pole? Oh, I wish I could see it someday!”"
 
"All in good time,”" Santa said grinning at his remark. Maybe to some it would have looked like a friendly expression, but to me it was a smile that seemed to contain the self-satisfaction of winning a game.
 
As for the elf, she had lost all color in her face. She made no move whatsoever as the two sat together, but her expression was enough to tell me that something horrible was about to happen.
 
"I knew you were real! I just knew it!”" Chris said. "And all the big kids at school give us such a hard time about it. Even sis was loosing it too! Just wait until everyone hears about this!”"
 
"They won’t Chris,”" Santa said, clasping his gloved hand over my brother’s shoulder.
 
"Huh? Why not?”" he asked confused. "Do I have to keep it secret?”"
 
Santa laughed a deep, evil laugh that was too much unlike his usual ‘ho, ho, ho.’ "Do you honestly think that you’ve been the only one to ever see me? That throughout history, the many little children of the world haven’t done the same as you?”"
 
Chris shifted uncomfortably in the man’s lap. "I guess not.”"
 
"You see Chris,”" Santa began, "children are not to be trusted. They’re the ignorant, greedy, and selfish offspring of humans; a greedy and selfish race to begin with. Over the years I’ve been able to sustain myself on these human qualities, and humans have happily whitewashed my persona in order to satiate their desires without guilt. It’s the perfect season for it; don’t you agree my dear boy?”"
 
The excitement in Chris’ face was all but gone now. He was finally starting to get it.
 
"The children who seek me out always want something,”" Santa said. "More meaningless possessions, satisfaction of curiosity, or simple proof are only a few examples. However, there is always a price to be paid for breaking the rules and finding something that is not meant to be found.”"
 
Throughout this conversation, the elf began to gather the gifts they had brought with a hint of reluctance. She even managed to make the cookies Santa ate magically reappear. She was ridding the house of any evidence of their presence.
 
Santa’s hand squeezed Chris’ shoulder tightly. "I’m always looking for more helpers,”" he continued. "Children who have seen me, who could never keep such a secret are the perfect candidates.”"
 
My brother’s face turned to an expression of absolute fear. He now realized his fatal error.
 
"You are not the first,”" he said, "You certainly won’t be the last.”"
 
Turning to his elf Santa barked out a command, "Annabelle! It’s time! Change him now!”"
 
"No! Pl-please, I-”" the elf stammered. "Please don’t make me…”me…"
 
Santa gave her a cruel look of distain and waved his hand towards her in an odd way. I was horrified to see the elf suddenly start clawing frantically at her face, digging her nails into her own skin. She screeched in pain, unable to stop harming herself. Santa waved his hand again, releasing her from her torture. Her face was now covered in scratches and dripping with blood.
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Chris screamed and dove off his lap, trying to rush out of the room, but the old man made another strange wave with his hand and Chris stopped in his tracks. As if possessed, my brother turned around to face him, his eyes wide with fear. He was under that awful man’s control.
 
"Don’t you see? It’s too late for you now!”" he said triumphantly, "Accept your fate!”"
 
With a smug grin Santa looked to his companion. "I should really start having you all wear red,”" he said in mocking tone. "At least then the blood wouldn’t show so much. Are you going to do as you’re told now, Annabelle, or do I have to think of something worse for you?”"
 
The elf let out a heavy sob and looked up to my terrified brother. "I’m sorry,”" she said in a sad, high-pitched voice. From where I was I could see her tears mingling with blood as she took a little silver wand hidden in the folds of her clothes. She pointed it directly at my brother, and a blinding flash filled the room.
 
It took some time for my sight to recover, but when it did I saw the Chris I knew was disappearing before me. His whole body looked like it was melting before my eyes; unnecessary flesh falling away and reshaping itself. When the transformation was over, he was shorter and squatter. His ears came out to sharp points; his nose was round and flush as if he had been out in the cold. Even his clothes had changed to a uniform similar to Santa’s companion-only red this time. His new elf appearance was a caricature of his former self.
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