Jody’s tears were like tiny crystals, each one reflecting the fading magic of the evening. Mr. Potter’s voice was firm, yet not unkind. “He’s gone to Lapland,” he said, ushering her towards the theatre. “Now, off we go, and no more talk of Santa.”
But Jody’s heart clung to the wonder of the night, to the starlight voyage and the whispers of wishes. As they walked to the theatre, her mind replayed the adventure, the transformation, and the sudden departure of the magic that had briefly touched her life.
In the dim glow of the theatre’s lights, as the curtains parted and the actors took the stage, Jody’s tears dried. The magic of the stage, the stories unfolding before her, slowly wove a different kind of spell. The characters’ joys and sorrows, their triumphs and defeats, all danced across the stage, painting new dreams in Jody’s heart.
And as the final applause echoed through the theatre, Jody realized that magic comes in many forms—in the laughter of a genie, the wisdom of a celestial guardian, or the drama of the stage. The spirit of Santa, the joy of giving, and the warmth of the festive season lived on, just then the usherette said to a Laplander in the thertre about Santa the Laplander said