It's a Wonderful Life (Because It's Mine)

The city was alive with Christmas lights, glowing windows, and laughter spilling onto the streets. But for the boy huddled beneath a torn blanket on a rooftop, the season was nothing but a cruel reminder of what he lacked. His stomach ached, his fingers were numb, and every carol drifting upward from the sidewalks below felt like a taunt.

On Christmas Eve, as he drifted into uneasy sleep, a clatter jolted him awake. He rubbed his eyes and froze. A sleigh—red, gleaming, impossibly real—rested on the rooftop. Reindeer pawed at the tar, their breath steaming in the cold. And there, climbing down into the apartment chimney, was Santa Claus himself.

The boy’s heart pounded. He waited, trembling, until Santa returned. Desperation spilled from him in a rush: “Please… take me with you. I don’t want to live here anymore. I want to come home with you.”

Santa studied him with unreadable eyes, then nodded. “Climb aboard.”

The sleigh lifted into the night sky, carrying the boy northward through clouds and stars. He imagined warmth, food, safety—everything he had been denied. But when they landed at the North Pole, the dream soured.

Santa’s voice was stern now. “You’ll earn your keep.”

The boy was led to the stables. Days blurred into endless labor: hauling hay, scrubbing stalls, feeding restless reindeer. His hands cracked from the cold, his body ached, and his meals were little more than thin soup. The elves ignored him, whispering as they passed. The boy realized he had traded one misery for another, only this time there was no escape. Beyond the compound stretched a frozen wasteland that promised death to anyone who wandered too far.

One night, exhausted and hopeless, he collapsed into sleep on the straw, tears freezing on his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, the rooftop sky stretched above him once more. The sleigh was gone. The reindeer, the stables, the cold soup—all of it had been a dream. He was back in New York, still hungry, still cold, but alive.

For the first time, he felt something different: gratitude. His life was hard, but it was his. He could change it. He could fight for something better. The boy pulled his blanket tighter, watching the city lights flicker like stars. Somewhere deep inside, a spark of determination warmed him more than any fire.

Carolina Dean