In this time of mass texts and misspelled “merry xMas!!1!” Facebook stasuses (statusii?), I wanted to share some holiday cheer with a story I liked immediately and that still gives me a special Yuletide chill. From Neil Gaiman, one of my favorite writers ever ever ever ever ever, this is…
older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die.
The dwarfish natives of the Arctic cavern did not speak his language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.
Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves’ invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozen in time.
He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harder.