Prompt: Santa Claus is real, but is a different person every year. He is a human sacrifice who dies/is killed after delivering all the presents.
The sleigh sat silently in the fresh, Arctic snow, the sack left empty on the seat; the reindeer sniffed the ground, moving tither and hither as much as the reins would allow. The wind howled, and Santa trudged towards the Circle of Rebirth. He removed his white fur-lined hat, his heavy, deep red coat, his pants, his black boots one by one, until all that he owned was thrown into a pile outside of the Circle.
He stepped inside.
The runes carved into the amber rings glowed crimson, emerald, crimson, emerald until the colors infused, blaring white. The snow melted and cleared from inside, revealing rippling, dark stone, divots within partially filled with soot and ash, remembrances of the others before him.
A warmth radiated from below, twisting around his legs, blossoming over his stomach and rising into his chest like steam, then gently trickled down his arms and hands. Santa closed his eyes, sighed, allowing the Circle to take him, add him to the divots beneath, and summon another with chiming bells and crackling fires to take his place, like he himself heard only a year ago.
Read my previous prompt, “I Saw Mommy Underneath the Mistletoe.”
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