The Secret Book of Santa Claus

The Attic of Wonders

It was a December evening, one of those where the wind blows so hard it seems to whisper secrets to the windows. Outside, snowflakes swirled in the golden light of the streetlamps.

In a small house with blue shutters, at the end of Maple Street, lived a boy named Alexis. At eight years old, he had eyes that sparkled like stars and a curiosity greater than the winter sky.

That evening, while his parents were preparing dinner, Alexis climbed the stairs leading to the attic. It was his secret kingdom: a magical place filled with old trunks, sleeping old toys, and forgotten treasures under white sheets.

As he hoisted himself onto an old trunk to reach the highest shelf, his fingers encountered something. Something soft. Something dusty.

A book.

But not just any book.

The Book Without a Story

Alexis came down from the attic clutching his discovery against his heart.

The cover was a deep red, like holly berries in winter. Gold threads drew stars and snowflakes all around. And in the center, in shining letters that seemed to dance in the light of his bedside lamp, one could read these mysterious words:

"For the one who knows how to look with their heart"

Alexis opened the book carefully. His heart was beating so hard he could hear it echoing in his ears.

But what a surprise! The pages were completely blank. Not a single word. Not the slightest drawing. Nothing but paper soft as silk, the color of moon and fresh snow.

— An empty book? murmured Alexis, disappointed.

He leafed through it again and again, hoping to find something hidden. But no. All the pages were the same: white, silent, waiting.

That night, without really knowing why, Alexis slipped the book under his pillow. Perhaps because an empty book, after all, is a book waiting for someone to tell it a story. And Alexis loved stories.

He fell asleep without suspecting that magic never sleeps.

The Golden Words

In the heart of the night, a soft golden light woke Alexis.

It came from under his pillow, warm and reassuring like a ray of sunshine in the middle of winter. The boy grabbed the book and opened it, breathless.

His eyes widened.

On the first page, words were slowly appearing, one by one, as if traced by an invisible hand. They shone with gold so pure it looked like stars had fallen from the sky to form letters.

"Good evening, Alexis."

The boy held his breath.

"I am Santa Claus, and this book is my gift to you. Each night, until Christmas Eve, I will share with you my most precious secrets. For you have a heart ready to receive them, I know it."

Alexis didn't dare move anymore. Santa Claus? Writing to him? To him, a little eight-year-old boy?

"Tonight, let me tell you about my very first journey. I was young then, much younger than today, and I was terribly afraid. Afraid of getting lost in the immensity of the sky. Afraid of not being up to this extraordinary mission."

A pause. Then the words continued:

"But do you know what gave me courage? The gaze of a single child. A little boy who had left his window wide open in the middle of winter, despite the cold, just to see me pass by. His trust gave me wings, Alexis."

"Always remember this: the trust that others place in us makes us stronger than we could have ever imagined. Good night, little guardian. Until tomorrow."

The letters faded gently, like embers falling asleep. The pages became white again.

Alexis hugged the book against his heart and fell asleep with a smile as bright as the full moon.

The Extraordinary Journeys

The following nights were the most magical of Alexis's entire life.

Every evening, at exactly midnight, the book would light up. And every evening, Santa Claus would share with him a new adventure, a new secret.

One night, he told of that terrible time when his sleigh had been caught in a dreadful storm, above the frozen mountains of Norway. The wind howled like a pack of giant wolves. The reindeer were exhausted, their legs trembling with fatigue. Santa Claus himself had thought all was lost.

But then, coming from nowhere, a voice had risen. Somewhere below, in a small sleeping village, a little girl was singing a Christmas song. Her voice, fragile but full of hope, had been carried by the wind to the sky.

"That voice guided me to the light," wrote Santa Claus. "A simple child's song saved Christmas that year."

And he added:

"Never forget, Alexis: kindness travels much further than you think. A kind gesture, a gentle word, can cross through the worst storms."

Another night, he shared the story of a boy who had asked for only one thing for Christmas: that his sick grandfather would smile again. Just that. No toy, no bike, no game console. A smile.

Santa Claus didn't have a magic wand to heal people – even he didn't possess that power. But he had an idea. That night, he had slipped under the Christmas tree an old photograph found in his magical archives: one of the grandfather as a child, playing in the snow with his friends, his face beaming with happiness.

That Christmas morning, the old man laughed heartily for the first time in months. Tears of joy ran down his wrinkled cheeks as he held his grandson in his arms.

"Sometimes, the most beautiful gift is not the biggest or the brightest. It's the one that comes from the heart. Remember this, Alexis."

The Lesson of the Stars

One night, however, the book told a different story. Darker. Sadder.

"Sometimes I cannot help everyone, Alexis. This truth sometimes weighs on me like a mountain on my shoulders."

The words seemed to hesitate before appearing.

"Some children carry a sadness so deep that my gifts are not enough to heal it. Some adults have forgotten how to believe, and their hearts have become as cold as polar ice. On those nights, I return home with a heart as heavy as stone."

Alexis felt a small tear roll down his cheek.

"But do you know what I do when discouragement overwhelms me? I leave my workshop, I sit in the snow, and I look at the stars. Each of them is a tiny light, lost in the black immensity of the sky. And yet, together, they illuminate the world."

"I don't need to save the entire universe in a single night, Alexis. I just need to do my best. One heart at a time. One light at a time."

The words shone more intensely:

"You too will encounter difficult moments. Days when you feel too small, too weak, not good enough. But remember: courage is not the absence of fear. It's choosing to move forward despite it. It's believing in yourself, even when no one else seems to."

That night, Alexis didn't fall asleep right away. For a long time, he sat by his window, contemplating the stars twinkling above the snow-covered roofs. He thought of all those children in the world that Santa Claus visited each year. Of all those little lights shining in the great winter night.

The Greatest Secret

It was finally Christmas Eve.

Outside, the entire village seemed to hold its breath. Garlands blinked in windows, Christmas trees sparkled behind glass panes, and the smell of cinnamon cookies floated in the cold air.

Alexis knew, deep in his heart, that this night would be different from all the others.

When midnight struck in the church tower, the book lit up one last time. But this time, the golden letters appeared more slowly, almost timidly, as if they hesitated to reveal what they carried.

"My dear Alexis, the time has come to share with you my last secret. The most important of all. The one I have shared with very few children over the centuries."

Alexis's heart was beating so hard he was trembling.

"You've surely wondered how I can exist for so long. How I can be everywhere at once, in every house, every chimney, every heart. How the magic of Christmas never dies, despite wars, sorrows, and the harshest winters."

A new page turned by itself, with a soft rustle like the beating of wings.

"The truth, Alexis, is that I am not alone. I have never been alone."

Alexis frowned, not yet understanding.

"Every child who chooses kindness over meanness becomes a little bit Santa Claus. Every person who gives without expecting anything in return carries a fragment of my magic in their heart. Every soul who continues to believe in the light, even in the darkest moments, makes the North Pole star shine a little brighter."

The following words seemed to pulse with light:

"The magic of Christmas is not in my powers, Alexis. It's not in my sleigh, nor in my sack filled with gifts. It is in the hands of those who choose to share it. In the hearts of those who dare to believe in it."

"And tonight, at this very moment as you read these words, you join this great invisible family. You become, in turn, a guardian of the Christmas light."

Alexis felt something change deep inside him. Like a small flame that had just been lit in his chest. A gentle warmth spreading throughout his being.

The last words appeared, brighter than all the others:

"Take care of this light, my little guardian. Make it grow day by day. Share it generously with everyone you meet. And one day, perhaps, when you're grown up, you will pass it on to another child with sparkling eyes. As I have passed it to you tonight."

"For this is how magic crosses the centuries."

"This is how Christmas never dies."

The New Guardian

On Christmas morning, Alexis woke up with a heart as light as a snowflake.

The book was still there, pressed against his chest. But when he opened it, the pages were no longer blank. They were filled with all the stories Santa Claus had told him, written in golden letters that would shine forever.

That morning, before even running to the tree to discover his presents, Alexis did something extraordinary.

He put on his boots, his coat, his red scarf, and went out into the biting cold of December. He walked to the neighbor's house, old Mr. Martin's, who had lived all alone since his wife had gone to join the stars.

Alexis knocked on the door and handed the old man a drawing he had made in secret: a snowman next to a fir tree.

— Merry Christmas, Mr. Martin, said Alexis.

The old man looked at the drawing. His eyes misted over. Tears ran down his wrinkled cheeks, but his smile was brighter than all the garlands in the world.

— Merry Christmas, little fellow, he murmured in a voice trembling with emotion.

That day, Alexis finally understood the true meaning of Santa Claus's words. The magic wasn't locked in the book with golden pages. It wasn't hidden at the North Pole, guarded by elves and reindeer. It was everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. In every outstretched hand, in every offered smile, in every heart that chose to love.

And from then on, every year, when the first snow began to fall and the winter wind whispered its secrets to the windows, Alexis would take out his precious book. He would read it aloud, to his little sister, to his friends, to all who wanted to hear it.

Sometimes, just sometimes, it seemed to him that the golden letters shone a little brighter than usual. As if Santa Claus, somewhere up there in his kingdom of snow, was giving him a knowing wink.

For the magic of Christmas never dies.

It lives, eternal and luminous, in the hearts of those who choose to believe in it.

The End

For all the little guardians of light, and for those who, one day, will become them.