“Those kids are spoiled Claus. There are no good kids anymore, they belong to me,” explained Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint.
“Say no this year Saint Nick, don’t you hear the reverend preaching about how Christmas is a pagan holiday. Me and my rebel saints will take back what belongs to us. Why waste your time searching for good vibes Saint Nick? The world is a dump and people are evil. There is no good, don’t you see Saint Nick? All they do is consume, drink and be merry. They steal and kill each other, while you sit lonely in a room at the North Pole serving their kid’s needs. It’s all a lie. Look at their parents, Saint Nick, do you think they care about all that you’ve done for their children over the years? Giving them happy memories. Join me this year Saint Nick. Let’s make war with the people, let’s destroy the human race. Don’t you see the hidden hatred inside of their hearts. If Christ were alive do you think they would care? Do you think they remember the sacrifice? It’s all a joke to them now. All they care about are themselves. Look at how they argue over who or what God looks like. Look at what they’ve become. Soulless flesh, feasting off of false hopes. Join me Saint Nick. All I need is for you to sign over the Christmas magic to me and my Rebel Saints, and we will make the world a much better place. We will bring the world to its knees. Basic math Saint Nick. Basic math, isn’t that what you want?” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint continued.
“Who are you?” St. Nick asked.
“I’m here to even the scales. The conjuring of hate has given me the power that I’ve waited for to steal Christmas and souls. I heard you arguing with your old aunt, you’re low on Christmas magic. Now give it all to me,” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint said.
“No, me and my elves will never surrender,” Saint Nick said.
“Goodness is dead, the world is dark and filled with death. Even religious leaders are fighting for your power over Christmas, now give it to me. Do you think your good children will save you when they’re all scattered and lost?” Warlord Crispy went on as venom spilled out of his mouth.
“Look at them, St. Nick, they know everything but the story of Christ and Christmas, now give me what belongs to me, your purpose is dead, just like the magic of Christmas. What color are you? What political affiliation are you? Ha, as a matter of fact, what religion are you? There is no goodness, Christmas is mine now Nick. Ha! They will call me St. Rebel. Yes, the new face of Christmas, now die Claus!” Warlord Crispy went on, growing stronger and stronger while holding St. Nick and the entire Christmas story in the palm of his hands. At that moment, all goodness seemed to be no more, and the story of Christmas slowly began to disappear. Screams could be heard as Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint with his green hair and magical marks set fire to the manger that once was the bed where Christ slept. When all looked like it was over, Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint began shooting at the reindeer, it almost seemed like all hell had broken loose. No one believed in the story anymore, and the world began to grow dark as Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint set the north pole on fire.
“What do we do Sir? We were not made for war,” one of the Elves asked.
St. Nick grabbed his Bible, and like the gold color of his skin and the wool of his hair, he began to preach to his elves, “All we’ve ever been is a story for little children of all races, creeds, and colors. All we’ve ever been is a beacon of hope for the greater good of the world. In our code of creation, Elves, that’s all we were created for, on earth. Now, if there is one who believes and prays, then there is hope. Until we feel this child’s force, then we have no purpose, and we will fade like the ashes that burn. Elves, all it takes is one child to believe,” St. Nick concluded.
Witnessing the torment and destruction of the world, Phillip, the orphan slave, fell to his knees begging for God’s strength. He watched as the evil Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint set fire to his orphanage while he was forced to watch them torch his entire village. Reaching out to his sister to save her, he remembered how she was raped and left for dead as he heard the voice of an angel teaching him a fundamental lesson about life. He also recalled his cousin Nathan begging for mercy while being stoned for stealing a bag of bread and there he stood in a field of torment as Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint killed everyone and everything he loved.
“No one can hear your prayers slave. All hope now belongs to me,” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint said.
“Why are you doing this, Sir?” Phillip asked trembling in fear.
“I am a force that the people asked for. I am a god that the people have given all of their power to. Now worship me child. Bow down to me and I will give you the world,” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint continued.
“I know what good is, Sir. I loved my sister and brother, we didn’t get along at times, but I loved them. I don’t have anything, I never have, and I never will, Sir, but I know what good is. I’ve learned my lesson, but what you’re doing is evil,” Phillip said.
At this moment, the balance of time and nature began to unfold. The little child Phillip released a vibe that was thought to be forgotten in a world in trouble. Rising from the North, an army of Saints and Angels from the heavens came to Phillip’s aid.
St. Nick noticed his Christmas magic meter turning again.
“Hold on Elves, there is one child who still believes,” he said watching night and day return like the great light from the morning Sun.
The Evil Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint had been defeated, all by the power of one child who believes. Long live Christmas. Long live the story of Christ. Long live Phillip, the child who believed.
The End.
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