Holding the letter in his hand, Nick couldn’t believe what he was reading. He got letters all the time from children all around the world asking, pleading, begging—even demanding—he leave them the presents of their dreams. But this was a first. He read it again:

Dear Father Christmas,

I am writing to you as I am fed up receiving coal in my stocking year after year. Now I know that down here coal is important, and I am grateful that you don’t forget me, but this Christmas I would like a new set of tools. I have worked really hard at being good this year. I’ve kept the firepits blazing away without being asked. Everyone has commented on how much easier it has been to do their jobs without worrying that the fires are going to go out. Also, I passed all my exams with flying colors. I even broke the record for the number of new souls gathered by a novice. Mummy was so proud.

Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well and the run up to Christmas isn’t too stressful. I will leave out the standard offer of condemning a soul of your choice to the Pits of the Underworld. (Daddy has asked me to remind you that the previous year’s offers are no longer valid. )

Regards,

Horace, age 12

It had to be a joke, didn’t it? Some kid having a laugh. “Meredith!”

The tinkling of bells from her hat announced Meredith’s arrival. “Yes, Nick? Another hot chocolate?”

“No thanks, love. I’d like you to read this, and let me know what you think.”

Meredith took the letter. “Mmm, I’ll send for Tatters, see if he remembers this boy from the naughty list, check where he stays. Has to be a hoax, some little devil playing a joke on old Santa. Says he’s twelve. A little too old to be writing letters.”

A flurry of bells, a sprinkle of caster sugar, and she was back with Tatters and a large steaming mug of hot chocolate. Handing it over, she patted his hand. “I’ve put extra sprinkles in this one, you’re going to need it.”

Tatters took a breath. For the past thirty ears, he’d been delivering coal to the naughty children. The ever-increasing population on earth had meant the delivery of presents and coal all in one night by one person was nigh on impossible.

“It’s no joke, Nick. First kid down in the Pits of the Underworld. Fluke of nature, seemingly. He’s always received coal, cause… Well, he’s a demon, ain’t he? Stands to reason he’s a bad un.”

Nick drained his chocolate in one gulp and placed it carefully on the table. His hands only showed a slight tremble that this news had shocked him. He picked up the letter again, the words having new meaning. “Well, this kid seems to think he’s been good. Not his fault his parents are who they are, and look,” he held up the letter, “see how polite he is, respectful almost.”

Tatters and Meredith exchanged a look. They knew what was coming. Nick never could resist a well-penned letter.

“Let’s get him his tools. Make his Christmas this once, though I think you should deliver it, Tatters. You know the area, and we’re not sure how the reindeer would cope with the heat.”