I didn't really blog Creepmas along with everyone, though it was fun to see all of the creepy Christmassy cheer that was spread. A sort of digital wassail!
I wanted to share a bit myself, so lift up that wassailing cup and take a drop of this.
"Saint Nicholas" by Robert W WeirClick the picture for video clip
"Nicholas Was..." is a short story written (and read) by eminent author Neil Gaiman, and reflects much of how I have always felt about Santa Claus.
One year, I crept out of bed, late at night on Christmas Eve. I snuck into the dining room, which adjoined the living room, and could hear something shuffling around by the tree. No matter how hard I tried though, I couldn't bring myself to look. It wasn't fear that paralyzed me, it was something else, something deeper and more arcane. It was magic. Saint Nicholas, whoever that man may be, does not want to be seen.
I always knew this, in my bones. They always told us that the fellows at the mall were just Santa's "helpers", and they are jolly enough. The television specials always portray Santa that way, Jocular and benevolent.
But we know better. We always have. No one is that good, that beneficent. I understood that this "jolly old elf" bit was a facade. In order to travel all around the world in the span of only one night, father Christmas must command some terrible power. And no one with such power is wholly benevolent. We know this too, instinctively.
So, what is the true nature of this mysterious being? who creeps into our homes through the hearth, on the darkest and coldest night of the year, and leaves children marvelous gifts, or more menacingly, lumps of coal.
No, I always knew, instinctively, that Nicholas was a dark soul, a fellow traveler in our explorations of the regions of the macabre.
If Gaiman's "Nicholas Was" does not strictly relate the facts about Santa Claus, it does admonish us to remember the nature of father Christmas.
Merry Creepmas friends,
