I have been writing some magic elves stories...The snow drifted softly across the sky in the coldest of cold spots on earth…the North Pole. The snow on the ground created a blanket of soft whiteness but if one looked very closely, one could see tiny sets of footprints, the size of mice, but how could mice survive in this climate? Yet the prints were curiously like small shoes, disappearing rapidly as the snow continued to drop from the gray sky.
As far as the eye could see, snowdrifts covered the earth and not a creature in sight. And of course no one was about, for this was the High Elves Ceremony. The one in which Santa picked those elves from around the world that would join his group of Christmas Elves.
Some people believe that Santa’s elves are all North Pole Elves from birth. But that’s not so…it’s told on the coldest of cold winter nights, bundled next to a roaring fireplace, sipping hot chocolate with a candy cane stick…the real story of Santa’s search for just the right elves. How the call goes out around the world for all those interested in being a Christmas Elf (and who wouldn’t be) to gather for the High Elves Ceremony.
You can read the rest of story one: Santa Picks His Elves
