December is always the coldest and driest month of the year in Nigeria, due to the parching dust bearing land-wind called harmattan. In some other part of the world, December is seen as a period of snows falling and a period to create snowballs or a period to shovel the snows from the road, but here in Nigeria, December is a period for lips to crack and for skins to turn white like they had been bathed with bags of cements. Snows do not fall here making our Christmas a snowless celebration. Instead the whole of the country is covered with mist especially in early mornings. Mist spreads all over the earth like smokes hanging on the sky and this makes it difficult to see what’s happening ahead. Everywhere looks dull as dust coats the whole of the earth making everywhere look dirty (but it’s not necessarily dirty). Even flowers lose their beauty because of the dust. In harmattan season, people wear socks on their feet to prevent it from getting dusty. Dust is a major feature of harmattan. Christmas is always celebrated in December so due to all these, Christmas is often dry, cold and dusty. Despite all these features, I love harmattan for I feel it contributes in making Christmas very unique.

To me, December is a time to rest. It’s a time to fall back and relax from the stress of the past eleven months. It’s a season for countless celebrations by various organizations. Many social gatherings throw parties on December to bade the year good bye forever (be it a good year or a bad year). It’s a period of eating and drinking, and a period of so many visitations from families and friends. Maybe, it’s for this reason, people become lazy, even the sun rises late, like it’s been forced out and the moon shine dully in the night, like it’s tired and weary. Sometimes, the moon refuses to shine. At night, the sky looks like it’s weaved up by threads of dust. It becomes grayish and devoid of stars. This makes me think, the heavenly bodies are planning to go on vacation for the holiday (maybe travel) since December is a period of traveling here in Nigeria. I guess it’s a period of traveling because it’s the last month of the year. Many families return back to their states to spend the Christmas holiday with their families and relatives. My family not exempted. We have also decided to travel to Anambra, the state I’m from, to spend the Christmas holiday.

In anticipation to the traveling, my mum and I went to a boutique to shop for new clothes. It’s very essential to shop for clothes on this festive season because traders export the best of clothing materials during this period. December clothings are very unique and of high quality, that’s why it’s a tradition here to get new clothes often tagged as Christmas clothes and to get petroleum jelly named Vaseline to apply on the skin, to make the skin less dry and rough. We also apply Vaseline on our lips to protect it from cracking. Even our hairs become dry and strong like sponges. Petroleum jellies and hair creams are very essential for Christmas celebration or else the dryness will make you very uncomfortable.

As I tagged along the back of my mother in the boutique, I stared at the hustle and bustle of the marketplace through the window. The market place is often crowded as people troop in and out to purchase foodstuffs, clothing materials and fowls (oh yeah! Fowls. Christmas season is the time to slaughter animals especially fowls to prepare delicious meals for Christmas).

I smiled within myself while watching people purchase various items for Christmas. Christmas this year is gonna be wonderful, I thought. I was already drafting out things I’d like to do this Christmas with my family. I had arranged various movies to watch and gifts to give to my friends and relatives but then, something tragic and unexpected happened shattering all my plans and expectations. One morning, during our normal morning devotion, my father got a call from a relative. He bowed his head the moment the call went off. We were confused and wondered what it was that made him react that way. He stared at my mum and shook his head. He then broke the news and that was how we got to hear about the shocking news of my uncle’s death. My uncle, which was my mum’s younger brother, had been a victim of cancer for three years now. He had been admitted to a hospital at India thrice for various operations and he had been responding to treatment. There was a time he and his wife came to visit our family, he looked very strong and healthy. He was even fatter and we were all glad to see that he was getting along well. Everyone thought he was going to make it out of the sickness for he was a strong man and above all, he had immense faith in God. Unfortunately for us all, he gave up the ghost and surrendered into the cold hands of the unsatisfied death.

At first, it felt like a dream, a movie, something unreal. I couldn’t believe it. I thought if I slept and woke up, everything would fall back in place and it would be a nightmare but I’ve been sleeping and waking up to the bitter truth that he’s gone forever. The reality of his death keeps dawning on me each day. I still can’t accept his death. I expected him to live longer.

My uncle (my Santa Claus), chose to leave us on December, a period of celebration, to an unknown land. I call him my Santa Claus become every Christmas, he always dress in a Santa Claus attire (red cap upon red attire, a fake white beard, a ball hidden under his shirt to make his belly protrude). He would dance around just to make us laugh. He loved children but never got the opportunity to have one to call his. His wife had once took in but lost the child in a miscarriage. Those who saw him before his passing away talked about the lingering pain in his eyes and unspoken words in his silence while laying on the hospital bed fighting for life.

I don’t know what my uncle expects of us now. I don’t know who he wants to decorate the christmas tree now that he’s gone or who he wants us to call father christmas. I can still remember how he sang some christmas songs for me and my brothers last Christmas. I guess we’d be singing an elegy for him in return The gay and mirthful season of Christmas has become so gloomy and moody in my house because of his death. My father has called off the traveling, so I’m stuck here at home wondering how my Christmas will be. Will it be joyous and fun like every other Christmas? Or will it be mournful with lips humming an elegy? I’m yet to find out.

I've been challenged to thank

those who follow me.

I'm afraid I owe my followers

an apology.

Thing is, I am not

the type to take the lead.

Yet, I don't follow writers on Prose;

I've little time to read.

When I do read on this site,

I choose what is new.

I click the heart, and sometimes comment,

for the writers who

touch my heart, mind, or soul.

But, I won't make a promise that I

wouldn't have time to keep.

There's no way I will pretend or lie

that I'll read what you wrote.

So, to all of you who follow me,

if you're hurt I haven't

followed back, I say, "I am sorry."

I thank you, Prose writers,

for all the words which don't ring hollow.

You do matter. And, it's

not your fault that I fail to follow.

a curious woman

when provoked just right

is more dangerous than the worlds deadliest creatures.

she makes it seem like you’re the one

who’s drawing her in

when she’s really guiding you

right into her trap.

the curious woman

always wins.

/enna.paz

Fame.

We all want fame.

We all want a person to see us.

Really see us.

See the way we poured ourself out in artwork.

Fame.

We all want to be known.

We all want recognition.

Will we get that for Christmas?

Nope.

We get it through hard work,

And sometimes not even then.

But it would be nice.

It took me quite a while to get ahold of Jeopardy the head elf. You wouldn’t believe what I had to go through in order to get this interview. I am lucky to be alive since it took me almost an entire year to get to Santa’s Village, a flight I was told was only supposed to take me a mere couple of months. It was there at this magical place, Santa’s Home where I got the privilege of meeting up with the all mighty Jeopardy, the little blue elf that was patiently waiting for my arrival. I was anxious as anyone would be given the situation and circumstances.

My entire life I was lead to believe that Elves and Santa were a commercialized fictional ploy to sale toys and gifts once per year. But low and behold I was proven wrong on this adventure. I still can’t believe that I met not only The real genuine, Ho! Ho!Ho!Santa Claus ( not the fake mall one you see each year for a candy cane, $20 picture and tear stained eyes) but most importantly it was the meeting and once in a life time opportunity I had to meet this famous elf named Jeopardy, almost more popular than all the Reindeer, Santa or even the toys themselves. I had to see why the entire world was so in love with this little blue guy. I’m not talking about a smurf looking creature. This little guy was eccentric to say the least. He wasn’t just any shade of blue. He was like a midnight blue, and fuzzy, a cognac array of blue mink covered him from head to toe. His eyes were pale egg shell blue, his nose as small as button and as red as Rudolph’s. And yes there really is a red nosed reindeer there, although he’s retired and doesn’t get out much, especially since his nose doesn’t glow as brightly as it used to. Santa said it was some sort of condition that one of the doctor elves diagnosed recently, apparently reindeer are only born with red noses every 10th generation and Rudolph was one super lucky reindeer up until now, it seems this condition has caused some breathing hindrances and yucky nasal discharge for Rudy. He missed his days of being a lead reindeer but knew that it was too risky for Santa to take him on any adventure since his nose was more of a detriment than beneficial to everyone.

It was quite an experience and I got to stay at Santa’s House for a good couple of weeks. It was crazy how long it took me to get there yet I only got to stay there for a short amount of time. And boy did that time fly by rather quickly. I wanted to take pictures but it wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t record them either. As a matter of fact they took my cell phone away from me the entire time I was there. And I found out I was the only human being besides Santa to have ever stepped foot on their land. The place was gorgeous. It looked just like a gingerbread house. Every single piece of Santa’s work shop and House was edible and smelled absolutely delicious. When I arrived by one of the magnificent reindeers and a miniature slay built for one passenger only it seemed I was more in awe of the decadent smell of it all than the beautiful sight of the house itself. And in close proximity, I noticed the stables that houses the reindeers, were notably just as yummy as the big guys house. It was wrapped in graham crackers, marshmallows and honey. It’s funny. All the time I expected that there would be mountains of snow all around us and a climate so cold that I would for sure be shivering the entire time I was there. I had never thought for a minute to ask them what kind of clothes I should bring with me to wear. It was cold but only a mild sort of coolness to the air. My short sleeved shirts and light jacket were more than enough. And there was only a dusting of snow all around the entire village. I also forgot to mention the sky was starry, not an inch of sky was exposed, it was more like all you could see were a million stars, they looked like diamonds against a blanket of black velvet. I never once saw the sun come out. It was like that for the entire 2 weeks I was there. Crazy. I did however get plenty of light exposure while in Santa’s House. So it didn’t bother me to much to be without sunshine.

The first person I met upon entering Santa’s House and Workshop was his wife. She was slightly plump, like Santa himself, had the softest hands I had ever touched ( she held my hand as she walked me around the village, introducing me to the elves, The reindeer and finally Santa). She reminded me of Aunt Bee from the old television show Andy Griffith. She was soft spoken, wore silver rimmed glasses and her hair was as white as snow, pulled up in a loose bun on her head. She was quite accommodating and let me sleep in a bunk two rooms down from her and Santa’s bedroom. In those two weeks I could sometime hear Santa talking to MrsClaus while working on his list of naughty and nice people. I could have sworn he had mentioned to his wife that i had been so good this year and there was a high possibility that I might get the corvette I had longed for. But honestly the sounds were slightly muffled. It might have been wishful thinking. A magical place could have that effect on anyone I imagined. The elves and their works shop were literally right below me and most of the time all I could hear were sounds of pounding and chipmunk like chatter.

I was introduced to the head elf I was looking for right away. And when I met the oh so popular Jeopardy for the first time I asked him how he got his name. Here’s how our little interview went. By the way, elves don’t speak english,they speak in elfdom or at least this one did. Luckily one of Santa’s helpers stood by and translated the entire time.

Me:“ Nice to meet you! And sorry it took so long. What a trip it was! So how did you get the name?”

Jeopardy: “ My mom was a fairway elf and was in charge of game-board central. She loved all the board games and her and the other elves on her team made the board Jeopardy, which was her favorite of them all. She loved it so much she named her first elf baby, which would be of course, after the game.”

Me: “ Nice! But what is a fair-away elf?

Jeopardy: “ It’s a type of elf. There are over 20 species of elves. We all have different languages, colors, ect. None of us are the same. I am more like my father, he is a remoter elf, he’s short and chubby. I am completely unlike my mom, she’s pink with pointy ears and a pointy nose and taller than the average elf. At one time her long legs made her the perfect-candidate for a Barbie clothing model. I am fuzzy like dad, blue and have a button nose and rounded ears. Both of my parents are currently retired and reside at an elf village outside of the North Pole in a bit of a warmer climate.”

Me: “ I think all of you guys are cute as can be. If only us humans got along as well as you all do. What is your secret to such success?”

Jeopardy: “ We work with one another and not against. Our once per year job takes an entire year to make happen. The entire globe is reliant on us here to make this holiday happen. We hate to see that some children do without for Christmas. Santa goes by an extensive list every year. He tries to decipher which people get coal as apposed to a real toy. But sometimes when people move or when Santa’s radar doesn’t pick up on certain destinations, we miss people. It makes us terribly sad when we get a letter from a child that says we missed them last Christmas.”

Me: “ What do you do when you find about such a tragedy? “

Jeopardy: “ We bless them with twice as much as they would have gotten originally the next year. Our helpers are paid to make sure this doesn’t happen though. Those people you see in the mall, at store, ect are all paid helpers. They don’t always do the their jobs right so we have to fix their mistakes.”

Me: “ Wouldn’t be easier if you just stopped making toys to give ?Have any of you considered just selling them only and not going to all this trouble to give them away?”

Jeopardy: “ We wouldn’t even consider it and that will never happen. It’s the reason for the season. It’s all about bringing joy to the world. Giving to others. Jingling bells. Kissing under mistletoe you and seeing people be full of merry that make us do this for centuries to come.”

Me: “ How long have you been an elf?”

Jeopardy: “ 3 decades now. We have a long life span, much longer than humans. We can live for hundreds of years, just like santa, we have much longevity.”

Me: “ Wow! That’s good to know.”

Jeopardy: “ Yes and we never forget a name or a face. We were created to utilize our talents in order to bring gifts to the world for an eternity. Our mission is to make one holiday, the most important of them all, the most cheerful and memorable one. “

Me: “How did you become the most popular?”

Jeopardy: “ I have a podcast, my own channel, host a game show and have a book written and illustrated about me in 37 languages across the world. It was the book that started my success. It’s about how I saved a young woman’s life that had lived in poverty through out most of her childhood. And made her a helper. She’s been a great asset to our company and I was praised for bringing her in with us by millions of people world wide. I was surprised that I developed such a following. It wasn’t that big of a deal really. I never meant for that to happen but I am glad I’ve been so beneficial to so many others out there.”

Me: “ Yes, you really have been amazing and it’s such an honor to meet you. So how did you get the shelf job started?. I mean you don’t look like that shelf elf but I assume since you are lead elf you are probably in charge of all the other elves.”

Jeopardy: “ Im not in charge of that one. He’s a bit of a misfit and gets quite a few demerits each year for putting himself into harms way and getting himself into compromising positions. Santa’s about ready to give him the boot I heard. But if he does I will be the one to have to fire him”

Me: “ That would be a bummer to have to fire him, it seems like it would be hard to lose someone that’s made the elf community more popular.”

Jeopardy: “ He’s bringing more negative attention then good. We only went good here”

Me: “I understand. That’s what I want too”

Jeopardy: It looks like I am being called for now. I wish we could have talked via satellite but we are so far out it’s impossible to do so without a lot of interference. I mean we are in another dimension. You do realize you are the only one that’s been here to visit us because nobody else managed to live through the black hole trip? You aren’t really at the North Pole. We just like to say that. Anyways humans can’t survive because your bodies are made different than elves.”

Me: “ Maybe I’m not human?”

Jeopardy: “ As funny of a notion as that might seems to you it is not entirely impossible.”

Me: “ How is that ?”

Jeopardy : “Aren’t you Grayson Landers, great grandson of Ovelle landers?

Me: “ why yes ?”

Jeopardy: “ I have something to tell you. You aren’t just a human. I only chose you because you are the only human on earth that is part elf and part human. Your great great great grandmother was my very own great grand elf’s grandfather. They helped create your entire family line. But since you are the only one left of that leinage we decided you would be the best candidate for this interview and being that you were a reporter we figured it would be advantageous to you to tell you the truth.”

Me: “ Oh my word! This explains why I have these pointed ears, so much body hair, the pinkish toned skin and big bulging cartoon like blue eyes I’ve had my entire life! I can’t believe it!! I’ve always looked a bit different than others. Now I know why”

Jeopardy: “ Yep, now you know. I hate to cut this short but I have a crew to take care of and toys to make, our times is crucial”

Me: “I understand. And thank you for your time. Can I stay a bit longer , work on some toys and get to know my family?”

Jeopardy: “ Yes and this will always be your home. You will live many years longer and retire here some day. We are glad to have you.”

Me: “ I’m glad to have you too! This is crazy! I’m an elf!!!!!!”

You know what I hate? Being named after a bunch of plastic bullshit. At least Ornament or Candycane sound cool. Tinsel is shitty. Oh, but I really feel bad for Mistletoe. Nah, not really. He gets dates easy.

But you know what’s worse than my name? Watchin’ the fuckin’ kids. I have to go creep around and watch some little kid’s every move. Let me tell you, some things you can never unsee.

“Tinsel! The next order of ornaments is in!” Ugh. Ornaments are the worst. Not only do we have to sort them according to some “theme”, we also have to cover the sixty foot tree with them. Since I’m the tallest elf (three feet five inches) I’m always stuck with tree duty. Candycane dumps a box of ornaments in my arms. “Big man needs these done before noon.” I groan inwardly. It’s eleven.

I dump the box on the floor of my workroom. The theme this year is Christmas animals.

Does this really weird platypus count? Probably. Santa’s weird like that. Who the Hell decided that a glass ball with a knife on it was an animal? I chucked that one in the “Maybe next year” box. Who knows? Santa might go on a crime show binge next year and decide that knives are “in”, like he did this year with Animal Planet. He has live reindeer! That can fly! Why does he need to watch a screen to know everything about them? Oh, right. Because he doesn’t give a shit about them. Taking care of them is an elf’s job.

I did it once. Trust me, it’s even worse than bathroom duty. Ugh, the smell. And the reindeer are bitches. They kick. And it hurts. A lot.

**unfinished**

An oak tree! An oak tree !

You’ve gotta be kidding,

You been in an oak tree lately ?

Its wood. Not much room for baking in there!! and even if you find one with a hollow

By the time you've wrangled out the foxes or bears or whatever god forsaken wee beasties you find in trees on the wrong side of the pond its still Not. Big . Enough. For a bakery.

And cookies! Cookies! What's cookies when its at home? Did you mean biscuits, no you want those soggy over sweet apologies for respectable biscuits. Pah!

But ye wouldnie listen would ye!

I know. I know, the Anthropomorphic Preservation Resonating Principal results in old gods doing new tricks these days.

But really you get a Swedish Tomte and expect her to become a capitalist lackey, baking cookies! Where's the fun in that! No respect! No porridge!

I’ve never been reduced to cooking in my life before and you ask me to do it in a tree for nissas sake! On a stove, thats hot, in a wooden tree. Think about it.

Ok I found the beer, we like beer.

So what I drank it.

Now half of California’s gone

Well, what did you expect?

I’d apprentice myself to the shoe makers, we don’t make those silly fabric slippers you like us elves make proper shoes, wooden soles and leather uppers

Only we are a little short of wood round here at the moment.

“Fresh mint.... cinnamon....chocolate(if ya dare!)..... mustard(i know right!)...blueberry....roach..sorry, sorry meant rice(;>)...and....oh wait! There you are ,been waiting for you all day Tootsie. Come on now, get a crackin’, don’t have all day till Christmas. Those snobby ass “Christman elves” might come in here any moment demandin’ their gingerbreads. Ridin’ their high horses..sorry reindeers with that weird red dude.Stridin’ in here like they own this goddamn place!”

I honestly thought Truffle was way too bad-mouthed for an elf, but what can an elf do when the most difficult decision he has had to make is decide between shiny sprinkles and colourful sprinkles for the little elfies.*Sigh*

With his (forced)Santa hat, Truffle looked miserable for a cookie elf. But sadly, tradition(and those so called”snobby ass” Christman elves) demand that each and every elf , here in Elfwhere, wear Christmas apparel on the days nearing the festival.

Sighing ,I picked up my butter knife ready to start layering on yet another christmas pudding. God I think I will throw up if I see one more of that atrocity. Truffle, in the meantime, has done nothing but cuss incessantly, dishing out Christmas pudding and insults.

My mind was just about to burst when in walked Bootleg.“Booty!!!”, I shrieked, knowing full well the effect it would have on my pal. Bootleg stopped in his tracks, the cordwainer tools hanging in his belt stopped clinking and jingling. He glared at me with such intensity ,I feared he might take of one of his elaborate pointy boots and throw it right at me.

Bootleg, believe it or not, is a shoe-elf. One o’ the lucky ones, I call him. Oh how much I would prefer polishing leather ,than buttering up some stupid muffin(keep your mind on the topic perverts). Sadly, Bootleg didn’t share my views. Accordin’ to him, elves are better off bakin’ cookies and pies, rather than bargainin’ with the local shopkeeper about cheap shoe polish!

Coming back to the situation afoot, thankfully Bootleg decided to let it roll and satisifed himself with a light poke on my back with a brass nail.

“So ,how’s life treatin’ ya?”, I inquired, frosting literally everywhere.

“Well, ya know, frostin’s still lookin’ golden compared to-”,he began.

″-cheap shoe polish, yeah yeah, we know!”,I finished for him.

He gave a waning smile in return. I returned the biggest grin I could offer, chocolate stuck to my teeth.

What? Can’t a cookie elf enjoy his own creations?

And that’s as far as we got into our conversation before the trumpets began. My smile faded away into a grunt and Bootleg’s waning one ,into a scowl. Truffle’s cussing played along beautifully with the trumpets.Time to get crackin’ now. “Snobby ass ” Christmas elves are on the loose.

11/21/18

Author’s Note- I am really sorry if I offended someone’s views about Santa. I love the weird red dude!!!!!

Sleepless night, cold rooms, loud silence, hanging questions. No one seems to know...

Things had never been the same ever since my father lost his job. The happy family which we once had began to tear apart bit by bits. The gay atmosphere meteorically turned estranged just like a dream.

Like every other normal family, my family, the Peters, was a nice one filled with loving members. My father used to be an accountant in a reputable bank while my mother owned a booming eatery. My family was always filled with elation and happiness. I was the only child of the family and I was nine years old. My parents loved me so much just as I did.

We had been leading our normal lives until my dad brought a retrenchment letter home. At first he wanted to hide it from us by pretending every early morning that he was going to work while he wasn’t. He was able to keep that up for just two weeks until my mum discovered the letter while cleaning their room. My mum was very angry that he tried to hide it from the family. She confronted him about it and that was how we found out that our big man had been sacked. The incident was a big blow to the family but not as big as what happened next.

When My mum discovered that dad had lost his job, she began to urge him to search for another job since he still had his certificates. My dad heeded to her advice but soon stopped after five weeks of unfruitful job hunt. He started to stay at home doing nothing just watching football on the television screen. Mum then became the breadwinner of the family. She, one day got fed up and scolded dad on his bad behavior of sitting at home and watching television.

That day was very hot as dad became angry. I was scared that they might start fighting so I ran to my room and shut the door. I threw the bed sheet over my head and closed my eyes I could still hear their voices faintly. Whenever they quarrelled, they used lots of invective words which I didn’t want to hear. My legs were shaking violently under the bed sheet.

Few minutes later, I heard the main door bang. I stood up quickly and walked to the window to see who it was that left. I saw my dad driving out of the compound in his car. I sighed and went back to the bed. My parents rarely quarrelled but whenever they did, it was always hot. My dad didn’t return until the next morning.

Days after the quarrel, my father changed. He left the house early in the morning and came back late in the night. I hardly saw him. I couldn’t understand why. It couldn’t be because of the quarrel. They have long settled their differences. They were always together joking around so dad couldn’t be angry with mum. I thought.

Whenever i got lucky to see my dad, he was always with a whitish substance and some drugs. Each time i questioned him about it, he told me they were drugs for stomach ache. I asked him if he had stomach ache and he said he did. I felt sorry for him. He continued taking the drugs and I wondered why the stomach ache refused to leave him.

One fateful day, i felt my stomach aching and luckily for me, my dad was around so I ran to him because I was hoping he would give me some of the medicines he had been taking but to my greatest surprise, he refused. Instead, he took me to a nearby pharmacy and bought some drugs for me. I asked him why he was being prodigal when he had countless of stomach ache drugs but he told me those drugs were for adults only.

I wasn’t skeptical about anything. I took the drugs and soon I became well but my dad continued taking his drugs. He wasn’t recovering from the illness. Those drugs must be fake. I thought. I even told him one day to throw away those drugs and get new ones from the pharmacy since he had been taking the drugs for almost a month but my father drew me closer to him and nuzzled my cheeks. My mum wasn’t aware of my dad’s everlasting stomach ache and my dad asked me not to tell her. He said she had many things on board and he wouldn’t like to stress her out with a minute problem. I saw reasons with him. Mum had been working extra hours because the family was depending on her only. I wouldn’t want to bother her with more burdens.

Some weeks later, My mum started complaining of someone stealing her money. She said she kept a sum of twenty thousand naira in her wardrobe and when she checked later, she couldn’t find it. It was so strange to me. Why would money be missing in the house? I wondered. I didn’t take it so who would have taken it? I told my mum that she might have misplaced it on her way from the eatery but she glared at me. We searched frantically for it to no avail.

My mother became very gloomy after losing that money. The same thing happened again and this time around my mum stopped bringing money home. She stopped at a bank each time she made a huge sale. it was disheartening to think that a thief was in the house. It was saddening. There was no more trust in the family.

When I thought all strange things were over, my dad stopped coming home. I said earlier that he often left the house early and returned late but this time around, he didn’t come back home. It was so strange and i was worried, so was my mum. She even picked a day to search for him. I wanted to go with her but she refused to take me along so I sat in the sitting room staring at the door. I fell asleep and when i woke up it was ten in the night. My mum hadn’t returned. My legs began to shake. I became restless so I paced around the house since sitting down was already tiresome to me.

The door opened and my mum walked in. She looked so tired and unhappy. I ran to give her a hug and she smiled wryly at me. I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water for her even without her asking. She thanked me and took a huge drink from the bottle of water.

I waited for her to finish drinking the water before I asked her the question that had been hanging in my heart through out the day. She smiled again at me and asked why I hadn’t gone to bed.

“I was waiting for you.” I replied. “Did you find dad?” I asked again as I held my legs to stop them from shaking. It was always like that whenever I was nervous about something. When I was two years old, my mum took me to a medical centre to take an injection against hepatitis and tetanus, my legs shook so much then that she had to hold them. That was when she discovered that my legs shook whenever I was nervous or scared.

“Not yet dear.” My mum replied. “I checked everywhere for him even his friends’ houses but none of them knew about his whereabout. I’m so frustrated. Your dad has been acting strange ever since he lost his job. He had been...”

“He must be in an hospital.” I cut in. I didn’t think my dad was to be blamed. He must have left to treat his stomach ache.

“Why did you think so?” My mum asked moving closer to me.

I bit my lower lips. Dad had asked me not to tell her but I couldn’t hide it anymore. “Dad had been taking drugs for stomach ache. It must have been an acute one because he had been taking the drugs everyday for a month now.”

My mum’s eyes widened. “What kind of drugs has he been taking?”

“I don’t know the name of the drugs but it’s a whitish substances wrapped in nylon. He said it was for stomach ache. I think we should check St Grace hospital, he might be there.” I told her. My eyes were already teary and fat drops of tears were threatening to drop.

My mum became still the moment I said that. She looked like she had just seen a ghost.

“Mum, are you okay?” I asked her but she shook her head.

“You said he had been taking these drugs for a month now right?” She asked me and I nodded. Immediately, my mother broke down in tears. I was horrified.

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier Mary? Why?” She whimpered.

“Because dad asked me not to. He said he didn’t want to bother you.” I cried out as tears rolled out of my eyes.

My mum stood up and shook her head. She took her bags and walked away to her room. As I heard her climb the stairs, my heart shook violently. I was confused. My mum left just like that leaving me with lots of questions and no answers. Why was she crying so hard? Why was she looking so sad? As I sat thinking, I heard my mum’s soft sob from her room. Pain so strong gripped my heart tightly as I listened to her sobs. Soon I joined in the crying.

I fell asleep in the sitting room that day. I had cried myself into sleeping. When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t find my mother. I went to her room to check on her but she wasn’t there. I called out her name but no response. I then went back to the sitting room and that was when I saw a written note on the dining table.

“Mary, I’m going out to search for your father one more time. I hope to find him. I’d be back soon. There’s a carton of noodles and some eggs in the kitchen. Prepare some for yourself and go to school.”

I sighed. How would she think I’ll go to school? How would I be able to concentrate? I walked to the kitchen and prepared noodles for myself. Noodles was the only meal I could prepare and that was my favourite food but while I ate, I couldn’t savour the taste. It tasted like gall in my mouth.

My mum returned just like the other day but this time, earlier. With her expression I could tell that the result wasn’t good.

“I searched everywhere, no sign of him.” She muttered as she walked into her room.

My mum gave up the search after that day. My father’s parents were dead so there was no one to consult. I refused to believe my dad was missing. I hoped that one day he would come back just as he had left. Three months passed yet nothing from my dad. This changed my mother. The departure of my dad demoralized her. She became withdrawn and stayed indoors most of the time. I too was affected. I wasn’t myself anymore. I was so worried and hurt but I still believed, strongly, that one day, somehow, my dad would return from whatever hospital he was. I was willing to wait patiently for that day.

The house was cold and icy as we were all lost in our respective thoughts. The house wasn’t the same without my father. It looked precarious to me. My mum continued with her business. She never said anything about my father and I never asked.

The departure of my father not only affected my sanity but also my academics. I couldn’t concentrate in class. My teacher noticed this and she called me to her office one day. I was a brilliant child and I was always among the first three that passed. She asked me what was happening and why I was losing interest in my academics. I stared at her numbly because I didn’t know what to say. After many fruitless attempt to know my predicament, she sent a letter to my mum. My mum who knew why I was like that sat me down on her bed and told me not to allow my father’s betrayal affect my life. I didn’t understand what she meant by that but I shook my head and left her room. I tried reading my book immediately I came into my room but all I could see was my father’s face and the stomach ache drugs. This was what always happen whenever I wanted to read. When my test result came out, I failed woefully. I wasn’t surprised because I didn’t prepare for the test but the rest of my classmates and teachers were surprised at my poor performance. I felt bad about it because I wasn’t used to failure. My mother didn’t say anything about it. She only asked me to work harder. I was grateful she didn’t stress the issue.

My mum took solace in church. I could tell that the departure of my father affected her just as it affected me if not greater. My mum felt the church was a place were burdens were lifted, where she could feel free and was accepted, where she could empty all the content of her heart to God and where she could feel the presence of God. She made it compulsory for me to attend all weekly programmes and Sunday services. I didn’t mind because I loved the church and I loved God. I loved hearing stories about Jesus and all that he did. I loved Sunday schools and I loved the hymns and praises we sang in church.

Two years swept away like dust still my father was no where to be found. My mum got better within those years. She began to carry on with her life. She was no more looking sad and withdrawn instead she looked happy. Her eatery business was booming like never before. She even employed more people to help in the service of food. I always dropped by the shop anytime I returned from school, then in the evening, I and my mum would return home together. Each time I dropped by the shop, I’d either see my mum discussing with her friends or taking note of sales. She was always busy and had no time to think or sulk over my dad. I was happy my mum was happy because I heard that over thinking could terminate the life of a person. I had just lost my dad, I didn’t want to lose my mum too.

One Wednesday afternoon, as I was returning from school with my friends, i sighted a man standing by the side of the road. He seemed to be waiting for something. Now, I didn’t need a teacher to tell me who the man was. I wasn’t mistaken at all. He was my father but he looked so dirty and shabbily dressed. His hair was rough and dirty. He looked like he hadn’t shaved or taken his bath for like six months. I called out quickly, “Daddy!” I began to run towards him. I ignored the calls of my friends. I didn’t even perform the ritual of looking left and right before crossing. My dad looked back slightly. Just then a car stopped immediately in front of him and he entered the car without waiting for me to get to him. He didn’t even give me a glance.

I ran after the car screaming at the top of my voice but the car didn’t stop. I fell to the ground and began to weep. I just saw my father whom I hadn’t seen for more than two years and I didn’t get a chance to speak with him. I hated myself. I blamed myself for not calling louder. I blamed myself for not running faster. I blamed myself for not trying harder. I wept till there were no more tears to shed.

When I got to my mum’s shop that day, my mum knew instantly that I had been crying. She sat me down and asked me what happened. I told her everything. I wanted her to know. I told her how I let an opportunity of speaking with my father slip away. My mother drew me into her arms and rocked me like a baby. She sang into my ear that it wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t blame myself instead she told me to blame my dad for not visiting the family he left for more than two years. I fell asleep in her arms and I woke up on my bed that night. I didn’t know how my mum carried me all the way from the eatery to the house.

My mum had told me it wasn’t my fault but deep down I felt it was. I prayed to God to grant me another opportunity but it never came. I didn’t see my father anymore, no matter the amount of times I walked through that particular path I had seen him.

One day, I came to the eatery and to my greatest surprise my mum asked me to get my bags that we were going home. I asked her why we were going home that early. It was just two in the afternoon. She replied that she wanted to take me out to see a movie. I was excited by the news so when we got home, I ran into the bathroom to take my bath. When I came out of the bathroom, my mum was selecting the clothes I would wear. She selected a denim jeans trouser and a silky blouse with a sandal to match. She asked me to eat my food while she go and freshen up. I went to the dining table where a dish of Jollof rice with fried eggs was waiting for me. I ate the meal with great relish. My mum was an extraordinary cook, no wonder many customers flooded into her eatery to buy food.

My mum came down the stairs immediately I was done with eating. She was dressed in a yellow floppy gown. Her braided hair was tied into a bun. She looked taller because of the stiletto she was putting on. She smiled at me and asked me how she looked.

“You look very beautiful mum.” I informed her. The smile on her face widened and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks dear!” She touched my cheeks. “let’s get going.”

I sat at the front seat with my mum as she drove. I didn’t know where the movie theatre was located so I stared out through the window. It was a silent drive as we were both occupied with our respective thoughts.

We got to the movie theatre after a drive of about forty five minutes. We entered into the darkened theatre and luckily for us the movie was just starting. Mum chose some seats away from everyone else and ushered me to sit.

The movie we watched was titled ‘night wonder.’ it was a sentimental movie about a woman who lost her husband after five years of marriage.

My mum asked me how the movie was and I told her it was very interesting. She smiled at me.

“You know, the movie was kind of talking to both of us.” She chuckled. “I love the woman’s ability to get up from the ground, dust herself up and move on and that’s what I’m trying to do. Since your father left, I haven’t been myself but I’ve been trying to move on with my life. The movie is trying to tell us to move on. Mary, you should move on. Don’t allow your father’s betrayal affect your life, your academics and your relationship with others.”

I understood what she was saying. In fact, I wanted to change. I wanted to be normal again. I was losing my friends and I was failing in school. I never knew my mum noticed all these things. My behaviour had changed ever since my father left the house.

She was right. It’s time to move on. I promised my mum that I’ll move on just like the woman from the movie. My mum smiled brightly at me. She wrapped me in her arms as I felt her tears drop on my shoulder.

I kept to my promise as I started to improve in my academics. Even though, I wasn’t among the first three in class, I was at least among the first ten. I started to amend my behaviour. I started to come out of my shell. My mum was glad at my changed attitude. She told me she was proud of me and I felt that was all that mattered.

My name is kig, I work at santa's shop. Can I tell you a secrete? I know Elfs lives are supposed to be happy but thats all a bunch of lies, or at least in my case. I wake up very early in the moring and I have to walk miles in the snow to feed the raindeer. Then miles to walk back. I think people often forget that elfs can feel coldness too! That we are people even though where small. The big boss as we call him then calls down form his secrete hiding palce in the walls a list of names of whose been naughty and whose been nice. Then off to work we go. I stand next to mifa who does nothing but sing and on the other side is mity who never talks. We build one toy for each so when the day is done they all get twelve in total. But before that we go though pain and blood. The hammers we use slam on our hands and the toy pinches us and at least one explodes a day. Then we have lunch which is the same thing everyday. I dont care what people say all the diffrent types of cookies get boring when you eat them three times a day for 600 years. Then back to work we go. Today I built a little poney and I needed to test it out and instead of galloping with me on it, It flung me though the air. Yet when bobby the boss elf comes I get blammed. When I try to prove my innocence I lose my dinner which isnt really a loss for me at all. When the sun sets and the toys are made we are ushered into our rooms in the basement. In there, there are 467 beds in total, SOme for the elfs who work in the trees to make those awful cookies then the shoe elfs and the left overs are for us. SO tonight I sleep right by a spider web and the cold air seeks in from the celing. So with all things considered I might be better off as a cookie elf cause at least they get to see santa, we dont even know if hes jolly and red or even if he real. Know I know why little children dont belive in him, im not sure if I do and I understand where Krampus comes from cause even if santa is real he is not so jolly and nice.