Christmas Writing Challenge

This is my bizarre and fantastical entry in our Christmas Writing Challenge. Excuse language.

Title: Disbelief

No! No, no. Not yet! Don’t do it. I’m not ready. Time. Stay where you are. Pretty please.

The clock flicked to 1 December.

Dammit! He shook his head. This time of year came around way too fast. Time to get to work and, boy, did he have his work cut out for him. Yes, throughout the year he had spun his web of truths, hopefully turning some people into Disbelievers, but December was his peak time. There were fake Santas’ to infiltrate into shopping centres across the world, the bullies in schools to persuade and the cheap, fake Santa suits to hand out to any Joe Blow on the street.

His war against that fake guy was on full blast this year.

Rumours abounded, that dick who called himself “Santa” planned to use magic. Fuck, how could he compete against magic? Of all things… freaking magic?

He’d have to up the ante this year, but how?

His mind came up blank.

Then, a semi-idea formed. Maybe the trick was to cast a light on Jesus and take the spotlight away from the red guy? After all, wasn’t Christmas about the birth of Christ anyway? Not the guy in the red suit?

That’s what he’d do. Hopefully it was enough, and it was the truth.

He’d approach popular churches like Hillsong or some such other church. They’d help. A message of Christ’s birth over Santa would surely make thousands if not millions flock to his cause. The more disbelief he spread then the satisfaction of his success could only bleed around him.

The Lord of Disbelief, also known as the Bringer of Truth, slammed his fist into his desk, making pens, phone and computer jolt. Those rumours better be just that … rumours. If the rumours dared truth, the red guy intended to infuse every tree bauble in the world with belief. The moment anyone touched a tree bauble they’d believe in Santa. All the year’s work in schools across the world, all his Instagram and Snap Chat, insinuating Santa a fake, would be for naught.

His phone beeped. He picked it up, glanced at it and threw it on the table. The war had started already. Damn PNP Santa Claus app! The app claimed to send a message from the big guy and that merely encouraged belief. Now they offered it in six new languages. Curse the red guy for thinking of that one.

He rethought his plan of action and realised he couldn’t chance the truth of the rumour. Drastic action was necessary and he hoped he could pull it off. Fingers flew over his keyboard. First, letters to churches (a backup) then a special letter to North Korea. They’d help.


Three weeks later and today was the day. The Lord of Disbelief won today. No more Christmas could exist if the North Pole was bombed. Could it? And North Korea agreed today was the day. The strong reminder of the birth of Jesus underlined the Western world and was icing – delectable icing – on the cake.

He stared at the computer screen watching for the news to break. He bit his nails to the quick. Hours passed. His tea went cold, undrunk. Nothing. He didn’t understand? Did he have the day wrong?

His mobile phone rang. He stared at it. No. Don’t let it be. How could it be? He picked up the phone.

A Korean voice softly spoke, “We sorry, we tried. We have the right coordinates. We sorry. Bomb flied true but exploded above target.”

He hung up. Dejected.

What was disbelief when pitted against the magic of belief? At least the reminder of Christ survived. He gave up. Belief won. That fucking red guy won. Curse him.



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