He pushed the buzzer again.
A burst of static. Lights inside the vast house.
“What?" said the speaker.
“Claus," he said, irritated.
He looked at the iron gate. Nothing.
He thought of Swedish girls waiting by a fire tonight; girls wonderfully naughty, wrapped in a red bow, a smile and nothing else.
He coughed, looked at his breath steaming the air. Stamped his boots in the snow. He pushed the buzzer again.
He didn’t like moral dilemmas. He sighed. I don’t need this, he thought. It’s not like it used to be.
“Klaus? From Russia?”
He almost said it. I know your children. That would get them.
“Fuck off,” said the gate speaker. A burst of static. Silence.
He shrugged, turned to the eight reindeer. “Donner”. The reindeer tensed its haunches, dropped a load. “Blitzen.” Each reindeer complied.
He climbed back into the sleigh, checked his boot soles. Next time it won’t be pretty toys, he thought. He shook the reins.
200 words exactly.
(Annabeth! Hi, I found your comment on Dec18. Take a look.)