Wonders

“Santa’s workshop,” he breathes, and in that moment, he is very much a child discovering something that all children long to see.

It is a place of light -- of beauty. Greenery is strung here and there as though Mother Nature has been convinced to lend a hand in decorating, thick pine wreaths and garlands that set off glittering candles. It is, Jack thinks, the best place he has ever seen, and he has had a hundred and fifty years to look.

He knocks at the door, this first time. He assumes that it will be as it ever is, that he will wait until the way is cleared and then pass, unnoticed, within. He is wrong, though -- and for an instant the joy of it eclipses all else. The furry creatures can see him. They can see him, and he feels irrationally grateful for it until the instant that they turn him away.