The Forsaken Village - Chapter 2 - The Mystery of Santa’s Silence

Chapter 2: The Mystery of Santa’s Silence

As Don Eduardo and Señor Snappy strolled into the quaint village of Hawthwaite, the cobblestone streets echoed with the patter of small feet. A gaggle of children, their cheeks rosy from the crisp English air, surrounded the sophisticated gentleman and his cultured alligator companion with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Does he bite?” piped a freckle-faced boy, pointing at Señor Snappy with a mix of awe and apprehension.

“Indeed not, young sir,” replied Don Eduardo, tipping his bowler hat. “Señor Snappy is as genteel as they come.”

The children bombarded them with questions, their voices melding into a cacophony of lower middle class vernacular, a charming melody of the Edwardian era. Amidst the hubbub, Don Eduardo, ever the conversationalist, posed a question of his own.

“Tell me, dear children, why do you believe Santa has not visited Hawthwaite these past Christmases?”

The question sparked a flurry of excited shouts. “He forgot us!” cried one. “He’s too busy!” exclaimed another. “His sleigh must be broken,” a thoughtful girl suggested, while a small boy added, “We’re on his Naughty List!” The theories flew back and forth, as the children argued amongst themselves, their voices a symphony of innocence and speculation.

It was Bernard, a bright-eyed lad of about ten who had requested their aid, who beckoned Don Eduardo and Señor Snappy away from the crowd. “Please, come to my house. I have a theory, but it’s not for the younger ears.”

In Bernard’s cozy living room, they sat down to a traditional English afternoon tea. The table was laden with a delightful array of snacks: dainty cucumber sandwiches with the crusts precisely trimmed, scones served warm with clotted cream and strawberry jam, and a selection of rich, buttery shortbread biscuits. The tea, a robust blend, steamed invitingly in fine china cups.

As they indulged in the delectable spread, Bernard shared his somber theory. “I believe Santa has been avoiding Hawthwaite because we used to tease one of our own,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I convinced the others to stop, but I fear we’ve already lost Santa’s favor.”

Moved by the child’s insight and the town’s plight, Don Eduardo and Señor Snappy exchanged a determined glance. It was clear what they must do. They would embark on a daring journey to the North Pole.

“We shall seek audience with Santa himself,” declared Don Eduardo resolutely.

“And clear the name of Hawthwaite,” added Señor Snappy with a nod.

Their decision made, they set off in search of a sleigh and warm clothing, ready to brave the icy realms for the sake of the children of Hawthwaite.

As they left the village, the mystery of the adults’ absence hung in the air, an unspoken enigma that only added to the quaint charm of this little English hamlet.