(Read the original ending here.)
<By the nature of this game, there would obviously be a successful ending and a failed, or wretched, ending. While I didn’t know how it would all turn out as I was playing, I was contemplating the different endings to prepare for whatever would happen. I came up with what I thought were two great endings. You’ve already read the successful ending. However, if I am being honest, I actually liked the wicked ending better. So, to keep it from fading from memory, I would like to share the alternate ending to this story. What would have happened if Santa was indeed defeated by the evil vampire Count Dracula.>
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Mrs. Claus sat silently in her rocking chair, head down, as Peppermint and the other elves told her of the horrible news. The matriarch of the North Pole kept up a good front, but tears still welled up in her eyes.
Peppermint placed her hand on Mrs. Claus’ knee. “I'm really sorry. I did all I could, but it just wasn’t enough.” The elf turned and walked out of the room, dejected.
The rest of the elves stood around, unsure of what to do or say. They just waited to offer any assistance should their former employer’s wife need it. After several minutes, she stood up and quietly left the room.
Mrs. Claus opened a door to a darkened room. Light shone in from the hall and barely illuminated a four-poster bed. Laying on the bed was a covered form. It remained still.
“Christina?” spoke Mrs. Claus.
A rustle of the covers and a slight moan answered her.
“Your father didn’t make it.”
Silence.
“The SEALs recovered his body and laid him in the ice chapel.”
Now at the side of the bed, the new widow laid her hand on her daughter, only to feel the younger woman pull away.
“I understand, dear. I’ll be in the living room when you are ready.” Mrs. Claus backed out of the room and shut the door behind her.
Christina Claus remained where she was for several minutes before slowly pushing back the covers and sitting up on the side of the bed. With a flick of only her hand, a small flame lit upon a half-melted white candle that sat in an ornate bronze holder. To any mortal, the woman in the pale, pink nightgown would have appeared to be just over twenty, despite having lived almost three times that. She stared blankly into space, seemingly contemplating nothingness, until her eyes fell upon the large, ornately carved, oak wardrobe standing against the opposite wall. Christina stood, crossed the room, and stopped in front of its massive doors.
“It’s time,” she said, addressing no one in the room, and opened the wardrobe.
* * * * *
In the living room, Mrs. Claus was back in her rocker, several other elves still keeping her company. Cookey had just come from the kitchen with a steaming mug.
“Here you go, ma’am,” she said, offering her the drink. “I brought you some of my warm, spiked eggnog. It should help you relax.”
“Thanks, Cookey. You’re a darling.”
Suddenly, sharp footsteps could be heard coming from the hall. Everyone turned their heads to see Christina Claus enter the room.
The young woman stood tall, her athletic body covered by a red leather bodysuit. Over it, she wore armored pauldrons, gauntlets, corset, and shin guards, each silver piece decorated with gold edges and vine-like patterns. Her lower legs sported knee-high, silver-colored boots. On her head, sat a red, fur-lined stocking cap similar to the type her father wore. Flowing out from the cap and framing her fair-skinned face were the waves of her waist-length, platinum blonde hair. Finishing the ensemble was a flowing, red-velvet cape, trimmed with snow-white fur.
Equally eye-catching were the implements she held in her hands. In her right, she held a wooden cobbler’s hammer. In her left, a wooden candy-cane, its straight end sharpened into a wicked point.
The elves stared in awe as the battle-ready Christina scanned the room with her ice-blue eyes.
“Elves, ready the sleigh!” she ordered. “We have one last gift to deliver.”
“Gift? What gift?” Cookey asked, confused.
Mother and daughter’s eyes locked, and Christina’s ruby red lips curved into a vengeful smile as she held up the piked peppermint.
“Stake! Well done!”
Luke 2:1-19
