The North Pole Letters: A Christmas Memoir by Richard C. Stuecker

Author:Richard C. Stuecker [Stuecker, Richard C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub

My Dears!

It seems that the months have flown and that just the other day we tiptoed into your house, danced on your beds, left my latest letter, and laid presents under your tree! I have a story to tell. Billybags has begged me not to tell you about it, but I will!

I was just returning from Jons the Ranger down at the reindeer barn, who was building a new corral for the deer. (Do you remember how Jons brought back a herd last year and Billybags nearly lost all the flying reindeer across the sky in a wild chase?)

Jons appeared very confused. “I know I hauled much more wood back here!” Jons scratched his head.

“Maybe a stray hobgoblin has fetched it away!”

I opened the Great Door just in time to hear the giddy voice of Billybags.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee-yyyyoooooooooooo-wheeeeeeeyyyy!”

Then I saw him—or rather his shape, hurling down the length of the banister of the Grand North Pole House Staircase (the Whitebeards built it centuries ago). He tumbled over himself and picked himself up after a twirl or two. I knew he was up to something!

“Billybags!” said I, “what if Father Christmas had seen you!”

“Well, he didn’t, did he?” he replied, giggling, and then he sang:

“I have a secret, a secret to tell

If you can catch me, you’ll know it quite well!”

Billybags and a secret are a dangerous combination, as you know.

“Where are the twins?” I asked.

“Off with Haggars. He’s teaching them basic robot-building.”

I did not see him for several days. Jons grew grumpier and grumpier. At last, one morning at breakfast, Merry Belle and I were drinking cups of extra chocolatey cocoa, topped with whipped cream, drizzled with more chocolate. Jons pulled me to the side. “T’weren’t no hobgoblin thief took my wood. I would have smelt the varmint! I think it’s Billybags’s got the wood.”

“What would he want with the wood?”

“Foolery, of course, he’s full of foolery!”

Just at that moment, Billybags himself, covered with snow, came into breakfast.

“Why Jons,” he said, “You’re looking fitfully glum, brother elf.”

Merry Belle joined us. “Billybags, come over to the hearth and warm yourself.”

Jons harrumphed and turned away. Merry Belle brushed the snow off Billybags, sat him down, and two of Chef Petite Pierre’s staff served him a hot breakfast.

After breakfast, we left for the stables, joined by Merry Belle, and Beejeee would be teaching the wee elfkin their first lessons in riding reindeer. They would, of course, stay on the ground. We snuck around to the front where we saw Billybags mount his favorite deer, Melchior.

Quickly, we mounted our own deer. I rode Caspar and Merry Belle’s mount was called Honey-Meade. “We kept far behind Billybags so he would not suspect we were on his trail. Billybags flew towards Mount Nativity, the highest peak in the Nativity Range. It overlooks North Pole House and is a splendid sight, especially at sunset. Up and up we flew and we could hear Billybags singing on the wind.”

“I’ve got a secret, a secret to tell!

If you can catch me,

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