As Joyce stepped out of the car at the post office, she looked out at the snowy grass in front of her. Joyce simply loved snow; it was soft and fluffy and you could make all kinds of snow sculptures with it.
She held a letter in her hands. It was covered in holiday stickers and doodles. She looked back at the car. Her mom was standing outside of the door, but Joyce knew that she would not follow her; Joyce had written this letter all by herself, and thus she wanted to put it in the letter box.
She walked up to the box and pushed the letter into the slot. She heard the sound of her envelope hitting the bottom; it was the only letter in there. “Goodbye, letter!” She said as she got back into the car with her mom. They drove away.
As soon as they were gone, the letter box burst into flames.
A portal had opened up on the bottom of the box, and a tiny red hand grabbed the letter and pulled it through. The portal closed, and the flames disappeared. The letter box was unharmed from the fire.
The letter was now in the hands of a little imp. He was small and scrawny, with fleshy wings and tiny horns. He was standing Hell’s post office.
He tilted his head to the side as he looked down at the letter. A letter for master? He thought. From the human realm? It didn’t make much sense, since most of the letters came from other mythological beings, but orders were orders. Who was he to question them?
His master lived at the top of a large mountain, but the post office was on the complete opposite side of Hell. There was a shortcut, but he would have to pass through the torture section first.
He dashed out of the post office as fast as he could. On the way there, the shrieks and howling of sinners filled his ears. There were pits of fire and lava, burning those inside for all eternity. There were people being chased by ginormous flesh-eating worms, whose round mouthes were filled with razor sharp teeth. There were people being electrocuted and people who were chained to cactuses. There were demons ten times the size of the imp, feasting on arms and legs.
These things did not bother the imp; he saw them every day of his life.
Finally, he had arrived at the base of the mountain. There was a large door that was carved with strange symbols. The door opened up to a lobby, with plastic chairs and vending machines. On the back wall was an elevator, which the imp promptly headed for. The buttons were too high-up to reach, so he pressed the top one with his tail.
He bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. It took a couple of minutes to reach the top of the mountain.
Once he did, the elevator opened up to a long, red hallway, with a velvet carpet that stretched from one end to another. Two guards guarded a door at the end, but they let him through after he showed them an ID.
The guards opened the door, and the imp entered.
Satan sat on a throne made of skulls. His legs were furry and hoofed like a goat, and black horns protruded from his forehead. In his right hand, he held a pitchfork.
“State your business here,” he said, his voice reverberating off the walls of the room.
The imp got on one knee, looking down and holding the letter up. “Your highness, you’ve received a letter.”
Satan got off of his throne to take the letter. He looked down at it, then looked at the imp. “From the human realm?”
The imp did not look up. “Yes, your highness.”
Satan stared at the letter for a bit longer. “Thank you. You are dismissed.” The imp left the room.
He went back to his throne and used one of his claws to open the envelope. The letter was written messily, with ample misspellings:
Dear Satan,
For critmas I want a pony!! I hav been good all year!! I clen my room and lisn to mom and dad and do good in skool. Pls giv me a pony!!!
Luv, Joyce.
After reading the letter, all Satan could do was laugh. He laughed for a good minute, until he could not breathe anymore.
It seemed that this letter was meant for someone else—someone who lived somewhere much, much colder. Perhaps this little girl’s parents did not proofread her letter. He got off of his throne. He was going to teleport to the post office to forward the letter to its intended recipient, but he stopped.
He had met Santa Claus before, and he knew how he operated. He was a man of jolliness and good will—in other words, he was a boring old man who would probably give Joyce a lame plastic pony. That simple wouldn’t do.
If it was a pony Joyce wanted, then it was a pony she was going to get.
~~~
Joyce rubbed her eyes as she woke up. She looked over at the calendar on her nightstand, and she jumped out of bed when she realized it was Christmas morning!
She ran down the stairs, where her parents were already making breakfast. “Mommy! Daddy! It’s Christmas!” She exclaimed. “Can I opened my presents now?”
Joyce’s mom laughed. “No, Joyce, you can open them after breakfast.”
While eating, Joyce could hardly contain her excitement. She tried to eat as fast as she could.
When she was done, she rushed over to the Christmas tree. There were wrapped gifts underneath of all shapes and sizes, but Joyce noticed a surprising lack of pony-shaped gifts.
Just as her parents were walking into the living room, there was a knock at the door.
They opened the door. Nobody was there.
Suddenly, there was a burst of flames, melting all nearby snow. Satan himself now stood in front of their doorway, wearing a bowler hat. Joyce’s mother fainted, falling into her husband’s arms. Joyce’s dad had his mouth wide open.
“Why hello there,” said Satan. He summoned a letter and held it out to Joyce’s father. It was the letter she had accidentally sent to him. “I believe this message was meant for someone else, but I have taken the liberty of fulfilling her request anyways.”
With a wave of his hand, another burst of flames broke out. When it dissipated, a monstrous horse stood next to Satan. The horse’s body was dark purple and skeletal, its sparkly rainbow mane flowing freely. It reared, shrieking loudly.
Joyce seemed overjoyed. “Oh my gosh, a pony!” She exclaimed, running up to it and hugging its leg. The horse did not panic. In fact, it didn’t act like a regular horse at all. It leaned down and licked Joyce’s face. “Her name is Ms. Sparkle-Glitter-Dark-Heart!”
Satan walked over to Joyce’s parents. Her mom had woken up, but she was hiding behind her husband. Satan summoned something and placed it in Joyce’s dad’s hands. He was still frozen there, utterly shocked and confused. He looked down—Satan had given him a spelling book for Joyce.
“All of this is on the house—I won’t be taking anybody’s souls anytime soon—but this is a one-time thing.” Satan tipped his hat as he was engulfed in another round of flames.
Points: 555
Reviews: 27
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