A Tragic Christmas Wish - Fifth Place

Fairy lights were strung alongside the conifer trees beside the road to signify the arrival of the Christmas holidays. In contrast to the joyous atmosphere outside, a little boy of about 6 was on all fours scrubbing the barren tiles with a sponge. The thin clothes hung loosely on his wiry frame. The boy had on a drawn face like he was wholly focused on the chore of cleaning and the only source of merriment in the room to signify the holiday was a weak looking tree that kept on dropping needles situated at the corner of the barren room.

Suddenly, the door burst open carrying with it a heavy mist of alcohol and a large shadow of a burly man. The boy jumped and seemed to shrink deeper into his already small frame. He retreated quietly to a corner of the room as the man stalked in and posited his large body onto the dirty and only sofa in the room.

No words were shared between the two and the boy prayed to Santa for if not a joyous Christmas, then at least a peaceful one. However, that wish didn't seem like it was meant to be because the man suddenly burped shattering the silence in the room. The boy shuddered.

Like a great beast coming down to rest, the man's eyes started to flicker before shutting. The boy shivered in his skin because the wintry winds kept blowing in from the door that was left open. Taking a careful glance at the sleeping man, the boy decided it was safe enough for him to slink towards the door to close it.

However, as he padded beside the sofa that the man was sleeping in, a chokehold came for his slender throat. He choked on his breath as a menacing voice drifted into his ears, "Boy, where do you think you're going? You think you can escape me?"

"No, I…" the boy gurgled out an answer, but before he could finish, he was sent flying against the wall. The breath was knocked out of him and the room shook, the dead tree raining more needles onto the floor.

"Now, look at what you've done!? This place will never be clean if you continue to dirty it like this!" The man snarled dangerously.

The boy continued to cough as the shadow of the man loomed over him. "Why am I keeping you around if you're not capable enough to do something as simple as housekeeping?"

"Father, please don't be mad, I'll be more cautious next time!" The boy finally croaked out. The next second, he was seeing stars because his head was slammed against the wall.

"Next time? Like I'm going to give you another next time to disappoint me!"

After that, the boy couldn't feel anything anymore other than the sticky sensation that was flowing down the side of his body. He felt his broken body being tossed around the room but it was as if he was looking down at the scene from above, he was as detached as he could be. Eventually, the comforting veil of darkness came and he passed out.

He felt the sun shining down on his face and the next thing he realized was someone talking to him. "I'm sorry, son," he believed that was what the voice was saying. The boy sighed internally in relief because it seemed like things were returning to normal. His eyes flickered open and his father's concerned face looked down at him. The boy could even see the tears in his father's eyes. A twinge of regret gripped the little boy's heart.

"I'm sorry for what I did yesterday night, I wasn't myself. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, these things happen, you understand right, sonny? Things have been hard since your mum passed away and every man needs to have stress release once in a while, won't you agree? You will forgive me, right, son?"

His father said urgently and desperately. The boy didn't like to see his father in this way so he nodded to placate his despairing father. The father broke into a bright smile after he saw that and he breathed out in relief, "I know someone as brilliant as my son will be able to understand what I'm going through. Thank you, I promise you it'll never happen again."

The boy tried hard not to sigh after hearing this promise that had been made umpteenth time.

"Let's not dwell on that anymore, come, it's Christmas morning, come see what I've gotten you," his father said as he helped the boy up. Sitting on his father's lap, the father put a roughly wrapped present on his knees.

The boy opened the present carefully while his father looked on with happiness and joy in his eyes. The boy smiled when he saw the small notebook and pencils inside. Then, he turned to his father and said obediently, "Thank you, father. I love this present."

"You're going to school soon so I'd figure you'll need stationary. I hope you'll appreciate them. Come, give your daddy a kiss if you really like it," The father said as he leaned his cheek closer to his boy.

The boy pecked his father lightly on his cheek and he could hear a garrulous laugh bubbling up from his father's chest. Then, the boy felt a pair of arm encircling him. He jumped out of habit but seconds later, he heard his father whisper in his ears, "Thank you son for forgiving me, I swear I'll be a better father." The boy's heart fell because he swore he could hear his father's voice breaking. He hugged his father back and at that moment, he felt things maybe could turn out for the better this time. Perhaps there might really be a Christmas miracle.

The father soon left for work and the son was left alone in the house. After finishing the house chores, the boy sat beside the table, scribbling on his new notebook. Suddenly inspired, he decided to write a wish to Santa. "Dear Satan, I wish my father will stop hurting me."

The boy didn't realize that he had misspelled the name, Santa into Satan and he had no idea like Santa, Satan liked answering children's wishes because there was nothing the god of underworld appreciate more than the suffering of children.

There was no fire and brimstone, Satan merely wandered into the room wearing a dapper suit.

The boy wasn't shocked and nobody spotted Satan because he was a god and this is merely a story, what more do you want?

Satan with his disarming smile sat across from the boy and asked in a velvety voice, "Little boy, do I hear that you have a wish to get granted?"

The boy looked up at him with his innocent smile and asked, "Yes, I do, are you Santa?"

Satan laughed and replied, "No, I'm not but I also grant wishes, will that make any difference to you?"

"Oh… I guess not," The boy said with obvious disappointment.

"Now, now, don't be pulling that long face. Here, tell me what your wish is and we'll see how we can get that moving," Satan suggested.

"Okay!" The boy cheered up, "Sir, I just want my father to stop beating me."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, but do you mind telling me why your father hurts you?"

"He always says it's because he wasn't being himself. I think it's those drinks that cause him to be this way."

"Ah! I suppose I see the problem already, you don't quite understand what is going on in the mind of your father so you don't really quite get why he's beating you, is that what you're saying?" Satan asked.

"I suppose so…" The boy answered confusedly.

Satan looked at him and he smirked internally, thinking, "The innocent ones, how easily they fall for the lure of the words."

"Boy, since you said your father beat you because he wasn't being himself, how about this? I will grant you complete control over your father so you can make him be whatever you want him to be," Satan drawled. Then, he could sense the alarm rise up within the little boy, he berated himself for overselling so he added, "Now, think about it this way, I'm going to gift you a brand new father toy, one that you can be sure will love you unconditionally. I'm sure a little boy like yourself want to be loved right?"

Satan could see the boy being swayed, and he thought, "How deep the pleasure of tainting the innocence of little ones…"

"As an added bonus, I will install a system of violence inhibition on your father and that will prevent him from ever hurting you again, how's that for a deal?"

The last part had completely bought the boy over and he nodded to agree.

"Perfection…" Satan concluded and poof he disappeared in a haze of smoke, yes, even the prince of darkness sometimes appreciated a little drama.

Later that night, the door swung open and the boy shrunk into himself out of habit. Before he realized what was happening, he was picked off the ground and placed on the chair gently. He was still at a loss when his father laid out the feast on the table.

Perhaps feeling his son's gaze on him, the father explained sheepishly, "Honestly, I was really walking to the liquor store to drink myself blind again when I suddenly remembered my promise to you this morning. Then, I realized we haven't had a good family meal in years. Who would have thought liquor money could buy so many things, I guess I've went little overboard huh?"

"Never mind, we can always keep them as leftovers, father," the boy said with a bright smile on his face.

"Indeed we can, my boy sure is clever!" His father reached over to pat his son on his head, making the boy's smile grow even bigger.

That Christmas night, the boy celebrated his fondest holiday ever and he couldn't remember having so much fun in one night.

However, as New Year approached, the boy felt like something was amiss but he couldn't pinpoint what. He was sitting at the new table that day writing on his notebook. As he promised, the boy's father stopped drinking and using the money saved, he managed to refurnish and improve the house.

The boy bit on the end of his pencil, trying to figure it out when he felt a shadow looming over him. He looked up and realized his father was staring down at him. The boy shook and tumbled down the floor because he spooked by the pair of glassy eyes that stared at him.

"Son, are you hurt?" His father asked with concern but for some reasons, the boy didn't feel any warmth in them. As an effort to move his father's attention away from him, the boy nodded hurriedly. "Good, good," the man praised with a smile but it was a smile that never reached his eyes.

As the day progressed, the boy noted more and more strange things about his father. He came back with more and more money because his boss was awarding him for his "tireless dedication". At home, that tireless dedication was on full display as well as he bustled about the house, doing the household chores. His nose wouldn't turn up with disgust when he cleaned the toilet, his face wouldn't scrunched up from force whenever an old piece of furniture was hauled out of the house to replace it with something new. The worst thing was, the boy realized his father treated him just like another piece of furniture. He was kind and respectful to him but nothing beyond that. Previously, whenever he was in his mood, the boy could tell how serious the situation was based on how much his eyes twitched when he was resting but nowadays, his father's face was as flat as a mannequin's facial features. Previously, whenever his father wanted to apologize, he would put his boy on his legs and hold him close to his heart, nowadays he would still do that but his legs would stop rocking the little boy unconsciously, a part of his father's nervous tick and the boy could have sworn his father's heart had stopped beating. The way he carried himself was mechanical… and well, toy-like.

Like something that couldn't be unseen, ever since that knowledge appeared in the little boy's mind, he couldn't help but catch himself noticing more and more weird things about his father. The feeling that his father was merely going through the motions become more prevalent.

One night, the boy decided to test it out. During dinner, he purposely knocked the plate off the table and it shattered into pieces. Previously, a swipe would come at him immediately so he screwed up his eyes to prepare for the impact. However, nothing came. He opened his eyes and as if waiting for him, his father smiled his placid smile and commented, "Never mind, we can just buy a new plate."

"But father, aren't you mad?" The boy asked earnestly.

His "father" answered, "How can I be mad at you? Now, let's eat."

"But, father, I'm not hungry. Aren't you mad that I'm creating a mess around the house?"

"Why would I be mad about that? If the house becomes too dirty, we will simply move to a new one. Haven't you been thinking about moving to a new house?"

"But… but… this house is where mother died… you told me that you'll never forgive me for causing her death, remember?"

"Oh dear, have I mention something that horrible before? Then, I must apologize, nothing is more important than my dearest son."

"But father, what about mother? Aren't you angry at me for being the cause of her death?"

"Oh dear, have I mention something that horrible before? Then, I must apologize, nothing is more important than my dearest son," His "father" repeated in an uncannily similar tone and inflection. It chilled the boy's heart.

"But father…" His voice started to rise in octaves. "Yes son?" His "father" answered in a level tone.

"Who are you, I want my real father back!" The boy's word started to blubber and he began to cry.

"What are you talking about, my dearest son? I am the father who will love you endlessly and unconditionally," His "father" continued, ignoring his son's crying, "because that is what you have wished for."

He just sat there and allowed his son to wail because a child wouldn't know how to deal with his own tantrum and so wouldn't a man controlled by a child. For the boy, tears continued to fall in his outpouring of emotions while his "father" sat across from him completely unaffected, his perfect, manufactured smile plastered on his face, uttering, "Don't cry, my dearest son, I will always love you."

And this is where our story ends because just like in real life, most stories don't end with a good ending…