A short Christmas Eve tale...
Steampunk Santa
Once Upon a Christmas Eve, way up at the North Pole, nestled
in the snow, sprawled Santa’s Village. Now if you think, from all the sweet tales
that have been spun, that this place was a place of dreams, made of gingerbread
and sugar plums, you would be wrong.
No, the settlement that housed Old St. Nick and his industrious
band of elves was a home of iron and clockwork, of brass and gears, with the hiss
of steam and the clash of metal echoing through its halls. Yes, that’s right,
'twas a Steampunk Night Before Christmas.
There’s the toy factory, with its assembly lines of workers,
run by giant cogs and gears and pulleys, and a sputtering, puffing engine -fed
by coal- powering the whole works. The elves wear goggles, leather gloves and aprons,
over natty suits, clanging and banging as they make the toys.
Outside is Santa’s sleigh, packed with those playthings, belching
smoke and vapour from its pipes and valves. The air is alive with its noise, a droning
snarl announcing its presence as the coal-powered engine produces steam and
fires on all pistons. In front are harnessed the reindeer, all nine wondrous
beasts of iron, marvels of mechanized automatons. From Prancer to Rudolph with
his illuminated nose, they stand eager to fly, rocket packs at the ready.
And here comes St. Nick, dressed in red leather and black
boots, his long coat sweeping the top of the snow. His goggles are perched atop
his head, his pipe in mouth, and his pistol on his hip. He climbs in his sleigh
and snaps the reins. With a grind of gears and a roar of flame they are away
into flight.
Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night!
