short story

The Magic of Santa Claus


The Christmas spirit was in full swing in Harlem as the pretty, soft, white snow fell from the night sky. Luminous decorations of snowflakes and shooting stars illuminated bustling 125th Street. Heavy-layered Harlemites of all sizes and colors were dancing to the soulful Christmas songs from the Gospel Christmas concert that was going on in front of the historic Adam Clayton Powell Jr. State Office Building.
Walking up the street was a tall mother with long straight black hair holding her cute pint-sized daughter’s hand. They both had on matching mink coats and hats that complemented their flawless brown skin. Standing on the corner, was a Black Santa Claus taking pictures with two young Black children. On the next corner, was a White Santa Claus ringing a small golden bell and greeting casual observers.

“Mom, what color is Santa Claus?” the daughter asked her mother.

“Santa Claus comes in all colors,” the mother explained. “He is whatever color his surroundings are. When he visits our house, he is Black. When he flies downtown to your friend, Becky’s house, he is White. Santa Claus is magical!”

“Wow, Santa Claus is amazing!” The daughter murmured.

“Yes, he is!” the mother continued. “And what makes Santa Claus amazing is not the color of his skin, but his heart and the ability to make kids happy.”

“I cannot wait to leave him cookies tonight.” the daughter smiled. “I hope he likes soft baked chocolate chip cookies because that’s all we have.”

The mother laughed.

By Shamarie Knight, 10th Dec 2014


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