A short story in which a child knows what he wants for Christmas and expects it. It’s a story of disappointment, frustration, anger and finally, relief.
Maybe you’re not sure of what you want for Christmas, but you couldn’t say that about Mikey. He was as sure as sure could be and for two months he’d let everyone around him know as well. His heart’s desire was bright red with a shiny bell, and it stood proudly on its stand in the window of Wheels Are Us, the local bike shop.
With one parent or another, Mikey walked past that shop every day on his way to school and he never missed an opportunity to point it out to them.
At school, his exasperated teachers tried to engage him with maths, reading and writing or learning his lines for the Nativity Play, but all he wanted to do was draw pictures of a red shiny bike.
At night, he prayed his prayers because, like I said, he made sure everyone knew what he wanted and he slept soundly, dreaming of riding the bike down his road, through the park, up and down the hill to home.
At last, Christmas Eve arrived and for the first time ever, Mikey asked to go to bed early. He knew that the sooner he got to sleep, the sooner he’d be able to ride his bike.
Early on Christmas morning, when it was still cold and dark and his parents were snoring comfortably, Mikey jumped out of bed. This was the day he’d waited all those weeks for. He ignored the Christmas stocking which had laid heavily across his toes and crept downstairs. He pushed open the living room door and stopped for a moment to look at the dark room. He could make out the shapes of the chairs and settee and the Christmas Tree in the corner, but he couldn’t tell if there was anything different.
He switched on the light and blinkingly adjusted his eyes. He saw on the coffee table an empty sherry glass and plate with mince pie crumbs on it. He’d been! Santa Claus had been! Mikey closed his eyes again and took a deep breath before looking at the Tree. Surely that’s where the bike would be, but no, there was nothing.
Mikey moved closer and saw, propped up against a bauble, an envelope with his name on.
Now, his breath came out in painful sobs and tears of unbelief sprang from his eyes.
He knocked over the sherry glass as he rushed out of the room and up the stairs. In his bedroom he slammed the door and threw himself onto the bed. He kicked away his stocking, sending oranges and bags of sweets flying across the floor and cried into his pillow.
He made enough noise to wake up his exhausted parents who staggered down to the kitchen. Soon they called up to him that breakfast was ready and guess what? They could all eat some chocolate straight away!
Mikey yelled out that he hated chocolate. He stayed face down on his pillow.
Before long, he heard pots and pans clattering in the kitchen and soon the house filled with the scent of roasting turkey, roast potatoes, carrots, sprouts and Christmas pudding.
Come on down Mikey, dinner’s ready and we’ve got Christmas Crackers!
Mikey yelled that he didn’t like food and he’d never liked Christmas Crackers.
Later in the afternoon, the doorbell rang.
Come on down Mikey! Aunty and Uncle are here; they’ve brought a game to play and some presents!
Mikey yelled that he didn’t like aunty and uncle, he didn’t like games and he didn’t want any presents.
By the time he heard the front door open again and cheerful adults kissing each other goodbye, and laughing when they said see you next year, it was dark again. The open door had let in a draught of cold air which rushed up the stairs and crept under Mikey’s bedroom door. It chilled his toes and settled around his shoulders like a cold, wet blanket. He was feeling hungry. He began to wonder what game he’d missed. He’d ran out of tears. For a second he looked at an orange that was lodged under his wardrobe, but he gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and carried on being angry.
He heard more clattering from downstairs. This time it was the sound of washing up. Then he heard the stairs creak underneath his parents’ footsteps. A knock at his bedroom door and in they walked, carrying the despised envelope.
Hey Mikey, we can’t wait any longer. We’re so excited. It’s time you opened this!
His parents put their arms around him and placed the envelope in his hands. Their warmth melted his tears and his head hurt, but he tore open the envelope.
Inside was a piece of paper which read.
Dear Mikey,
Happy Christmas!
Please take this certificate to “Wheels Are Us”, bike shop and choose whatever you want!
Wandering Through The Land Of Nod. 