“The Santa Claus Encounter”

“The Santa Claus Encounter” By Edward J McCoul 

“Do you believe in Santa Claus?” Sam blurted out, his voice cutting through the hum of chatter in the crowded living room. The Christmas Eve party was in full swing, with aunts swapping cookie recipes, Grandpa telling one of his famous tall tales, and kids tearing through the house in a sugar-fueled frenzy. But Sam’s question brought the room to a sudden standstill.

His older cousin Mia, who had just turned fourteen and now carried herself like she was twenty-four, smirked from her spot on the couch. She had been sneering at the younger kids’ excited chatter about Santa all night, making snide comments about how “adults” don’t need to rely on make-believe.

“Santa Claus?” she repeated, her voice dripping with mockery. “You’re kidding, right? He’s not real. Everyone knows that.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed red, but he stood his ground. “He is real! You just don’t believe because you’ve never paid attention.”

The room, sensing a showdown, turned its collective attention to the cousins. Grandpa leaned forward in his recliner, the bowl of caramel popcorn in his lap temporarily forgotten. Even Aunt Linda paused her endless Instagram scrolling.

“Oh really?” Mia challenged, folding her arms. “And what’s your big proof, Sherlock?”

Sam’s heart raced. He’d been waiting for this moment ever since he overheard Mia telling her friends last month that Santa was just “a lame marketing gimmick.” He wasn’t just going to prove her wrong—he was going to make her eat her words.

“Remember last Christmas,” Sam began, pointing an accusatory finger, “when we all heard those weird noises on the roof? Grandpa said it was squirrels, but I saw something. A sleigh. And reindeer.”

Grandpa chuckled from his chair, picking up his mug of eggnog. “Sam, I think you’ve got squirrels confused with Dasher and Dancer.”

Mia laughed along, but her smirk faltered when she saw Sam’s determined expression.

“You can laugh all you want,” Sam said, his voice rising. “But I bet if we stayed up tonight, we’d catch Santa in the act.”

Mia scoffed, but her curiosity was piqued. “Alright, fine. I’ll play along. But when Santa doesn’t show up, you have to admit you’re wrong and stop with this Santa stuff forever.”

“And when he does show up,” Sam countered, his face lighting up with a grin, “you have to wear Mom’s reindeer antlers all day tomorrow.”

Mia hesitated. She hated those antlers. They jingled with every step and made her look ridiculous. But her confidence outweighed her reservations. “Deal.”

The adults quickly lost interest and returned to their conversations, but Sam and Mia were dead serious. They spent the next hour preparing their “Santa Surveillance Operation.” Sam grabbed a notebook and labeled it Santa Evidence Log, complete with a checklist of “Signs of Santa” (sounds of sleigh bells, reindeer hoofprints, and the scent of cookies in the air). He set up his dad’s old camcorder by the fireplace, pointing directly at the chimney.

Mia, meanwhile, mostly lounged on the couch, pretending she wasn’t the least bit invested. But Sam noticed her sneaking glances at the chimney every so often.

By 10 p.m., the rest of the family had gone to bed, leaving the cousins alone by the tree. The room was bathed in the soft glow of Christmas lights, and the faint sound of carolers drifted through the frosty windowpanes.

“You know this is pointless, right?” Mia said, scrolling through her phone.

Sam ignored her, jotting down another entry in his notebook: 10:15 p.m. Heard faint jingling. Possible sleigh bells?

Mia rolled her eyes. “That was Mom putting away the dishes.”

Sam sighed but didn’t reply. He was too focused on his mission.

Midnight came and went with no sign of Santa. Mia yawned and stretched. “Alright, Detective Claus. I’m calling it. Santa’s a no-show.”

Just as she stood up, a loud thud echoed from the roof. Both kids froze.

“What was that?” Mia whispered, her eyes wide.

Sam’s heart raced. He grabbed his flashlight and motioned for Mia to follow him. “Let’s check it out.”

They crept toward the fireplace, their footsteps muffled by the thick rug. Another sound—a deep, resonant ho, ho, ho—came from inside the chimney.

“No way,” Mia whispered, her earlier bravado gone.

Before either of them could move, a burst of soot tumbled into the fireplace, followed by the unmistakable sound of boots hitting the hearth. Out stepped a man in a red suit, his beard as white as freshly fallen snow.

“Whew!” Santa said, dusting himself off. “You’d think I’d get the hang of chimneys after all these years.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. Mia let out a tiny squeak, utterly speechless.

Santa looked up and froze. “Oh boy. This is awkward.”

Mia blinked rapidly, as if trying to convince herself she wasn’t dreaming. “You’re... you’re real?”

Santa chuckled. “Of course I’m real! Though I must say, it’s not often I get caught. You two must be very determined.”

Sam grinned triumphantly. “I knew it! I knew you were real!”

Santa winked at him. “Good instincts, kid. Now, what do you say we keep this our little secret? Can’t have everyone knowing about me—it’d ruin the magic.”

Mia, still staring at Santa like he’d just stepped out of a movie, nodded mutely.

Santa reached into his sack and pulled out two wrapped gifts. “Here. A little something for the two of you. Merry Christmas!”

With that, he climbed back up the chimney, leaving behind a faint trail of peppermint-scented magic. They both ran over to the window to see if they could catch a final glimpse of Santa and his sleigh with the his reindeers, and they did! What a wonderful sight it truly was! The cousins stood in stunned silence, clutching their gifts.

The next morning, Mia wore the reindeer antlers without a single complaint. When Grandpa teased her about it, she just smiled and said, “Let’s just say I learned something last night.”

From then on, neither Sam nor Mia ever doubted Santa Claus again. And neither would anyone else—at least not after hearing their story.