It’s Christmas Eve and Josh turns eighteen at midnight.
For years, he’s pined over the forbidden love he harbors for his brother, Jake, but he knows he’ll never get to act on that taboo desire. But Josh is the kind of guy that never gives up on hope…just like he never gives up on believing in Santa.
For Josh, Santa is real, he sees him every Christmas Eve. Normally, Josh is a good boy and always ends up on the good list—but this year, his eighteenth, he wants to play a little prank on Santa, even if it risks putting him on the naughty list.
But when the prank is caught and Santa confronts him, his potential punishment turns into a gift he’ll never forget.
A Brotherly Christmas is a 4,500-word short story.
In the dimly-lit living room, I sat on the bear rug with my legs crossed in anticipation, just a few feet away from the large Christmas tree. The heater had turned off for the cycle, and the embers in the rustic fireplace barely glowed. The only sound in the house was Dad’s snoring, drowning out any of Jake’s snores. At least the stench of cheap cigarettes had finally faded away, which did nothing but yellow the chipped walls.
I wore an old set of Christmassy PJs that still fit me because I was a twink who could fit into practically any small size. To be fair, it had originally belonged to a cousin of mine who had grown into a twunk.
Even though Mom was no longer around to tell me to be a good boy, I already knew to carefully leave a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk on the wobbly coffee table, just like every year. Please, as if I didn’t know what the surprise was. I’d just kept it to myself because it was part of the fun. Life was hard, and so was family life. Let me have something magical to hold onto, at least.
Now that it was past midnight, I was officially eighteen. So, this year, I wanted to have some fun and mix things up. I’d jerked off and shot a big load inside the glass of milk as a devious little prank. I couldn’t wait for Santa to drink it all up so that I could see his reaction.
After more minutes of waiting, Santa finally came from right behind me in quiet steps. I never turned around because I wanted to wait until he circled around to face me for a proper surprise. He always stood right by the Christmas tree.
Like every year, I forced myself to believe Santa really was here again, albeit slimmer and younger than the old and jolly version, but still much bigger than me. He towered over me in his famous red suit and hat that made me melt in ways I couldn’t begin to explain. “Ho, ho, ho!” he cheered in a low tone, his voice so deep in a contrived way.
He knew just how much this meant to me. He knew I didn’t want to grow up, but since I had to at my age, I might as well cling onto this part of my childhood. That was the whole point of this yearly experience. Some things, I just didn’t want to let go of, even though I was expected to.
Santa ate the cookies, looking pleased. Then, he gulped down the milk, but he made an awkward and pensive face. He sighed, shaking his head. “I think I know why this milk tastes a bit funny.” He didn’t sound mad, though.
I pursed my lips, trying my hardest to suppress a giggle. I was so naughty this year!