A Christmas Equation

By Hannah Carter

“Ma’am, we have an issue.” My mousy assistant Anne cleared her throat, approaching my leather chair.

I waved my pen at her before I continued counting sums. “Go on, then.”

“It’s…” Anne gulped. “Scrooge.”

I peered over the edge of my pince-nez glasses. “What about Scrooge? He’s sufficiently corrupted.” I tapped his name on my list. “A bad soul, ready to be plucked for the Boss, just like Marley before him.”

Anne fiddled with her skirts. “Well, the spirits are saying it’s something of a Christmas miracle.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s donating money. Being good to his employees. One report here says that he’s singing.” Anne paused, a letter in hand. “Singing… to a frog?”

I snatched the missive, written by one of my most trustworthy lackeys. “I have a quota to meet, Anne. I will not let Ebenezer Scrooge throw my tallies off. Not so close to the end of the year!” I crumpled the paper and stormed toward the door.

Anne raced after me. Her boots clicked against the hardwood. “Ma’am? Where are we going?”

I grabbed a shawl off the coat rack and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Out for a little Christmas cajoling, dear.”

Snow crunched under my feet as I stomped up to the house of one B. Cratchit. Sounds of merriment leaked out of the home.

Disgusting.

I banged on the door.

Anne shifted nervously behind me. “Ma’am,” she mumbled. “According to the spirits, there might be a Heavenly Virtue here.”

“Nonsense,” I snapped. “I’ve never met one of those so-called personifications of the virtues. A beacon of love and light, here to counterbalance corrupting influences—rubbish.”

“But I’d never met a personification of Deadly Vices until you.” Anne cleared her throat.

“The Boss takes an active interest in souls. He wants all of them. Hence, I exist.” I snorted. “People are inherently self-absorbed; unleashing their darker natures is easy. No Virtue could fix them—hello.” I stared down at a small child with a crutch. So small, so fragile—so easy to crush beneath my heel.

“Hello,” the boy squeaked.

“You’re not a frog,” I muttered.

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Nothing.” I straightened. “I need to see Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge. Now.”

“Mr. Scrooge is helping Papa carve the ham,” the tot replied.

“Well, tell Mr. Scrooge he has thrown off my entire count by coming here. I need to make sure my balances are in check for the end-of-year report.” Souls had to be accounted for, sins all tallied up to prove my effectiveness.

“Ah.” The boy stared at me with something akin to pity.

The insolence. “Summon Mr. Scrooge. I don’t have time to waste on someone as pathetic and ugly as you.” Perhaps if I inflamed his insecurities enough, he might one day be in my ledgers—

“I like the way I look.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I said, I like how I look. Do you like yourself?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I patted my cheek. “I’m beautiful. Aren’t I beautiful, Anne?”

Anne dipped her head. “Yes, ma’am. Stunning.”

I smiled, turning my gaze back to the boy. “See?”

“I don’t mean on the outside.” The boy leaned against his crutch. “I mean, are you happy? It’s Christmas, and you’re trying to harass Mr. Scrooge about sums and figures.”

“Well, sums and figures are my job!”

Warmth trickled out of the house as the boy and I stared at each other. His eyes softened. “The lady’s cold.”

I turned around. Anne shivered, her teeth clattering.

“Do you want to come in?” The boy hobbled out of the way. “Mum’s got hot cider ready. You can have a plate of ham, too. Mr. Scrooge said to invite everyone and share the blessings.”

Anne wrapped her arms around herself like that might offer her protection from the temperature.

I pulled my shawl tighter around me. “We’re fine.”

“It’s Christmas.” The boy held out his hand.

Anne regarded me warily as she put her hand in his. “One cup of cider couldn’t hurt.” She tilted her head. “Right, ma’am?”

She disappeared inside, and in a moment, I heard her giggling gratitudes.

I huffed. “Really. Now you’ve stolen my prime selfish soul and my assistant. I’m getting very annoyed with you.”

“There’s always room for one more at the table,” the boy said.

I gazed past him at the crowd. “Your table is very small, and you already have too many guests.”

He chuckled—suddenly sounding much older and far less squeaky. “Why do you insist on being ignorant?”

I clutched my chest. “Excuse me?”

He took my hand. His gentle touch filled me with cozy feelings—the sort that bring good tidings of joy. “Christmas isn’t about logistics; it’s about love. It doesn’t matter if there’s enough chairs for everyone, just that we have everyone.”

Ugh. What a saccharine sentiment. If he broke into song, I’d bash him over the head with his own crutch. I shivered underneath my shawl. “Why would you want me in there?”

His eyes sparkled like the most blindingly overbearing stars in the night sky. “Because my Boss is a sums and figures Man, too. He doesn’t want even one out of ninety-nine to miss out on the love of Christmas.”

My heart stuttered. I caught sight of Scrooge, my prized soul. He threw his head back and belly-laughed at something Anne said. “Even me?” I asked softly.

“Even you. You’re why I exist.” The boy squeezed my fingers. “You spend your whole life worrying about souls without ever getting to love them.” His tiny arms embraced me. “Don’t you want to be loved, Lily?”

How odd—I’d never told him my name.

I stepped over the threshold.

“Ma’am!” Anne whirled over to me, shoving a cup of cider into my hands. We shared a smile, and the boy winked at me as he settled into a chair.

A Heavenly Virtue, come to love even me?

Must have been a Christmas miracle.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hannah Carter is just a girl who wakes up every day hoping it will be the day she discovers she’s secretly a mermaid. Her debut novel, Depths of Atlantis, is out through SnowRidge Press now. Her stories have been included in several anthologies: Whispers From Before, The Never Tales, and Havok’s Casting Call and Prismatic. Her flash fiction piece, “A Home for Nova,” won the 2022 Flash Fiction Realm Award.

---

More Stories | Author Website |Facebook | Instagram