A long time ago, many years in the past on a night like tonight, I lay silently in my bed. I could hear the snow pattering down outside the window, and the quiet hubbub of the street fade to nothing, but I didn’t move a muscle. I didn’t disturb the sheets, and it would have been very tempting to avoid breathing either.
The reason I stayed so silent was simple. I was listening for the sound of Santa’s sleigh.
“There is no Santa!” insisted one of my friends from school, but I knew she was wrong. Or was she? After hearing people discuss and debate it in the playground before and after school, I was no longer certain what to believe in. I’ll admit I was having doubts about whether he was real, but I held out hope nonetheless.
Just then, I heard the sound of someone walking in through the door. I got out of bed and looked out through the keyhole on my door. They had a hat on, and was carrying something.
Could it be-?
No, it was just my Pa, carrying a sack. I immediately jumped back into bed, hearing my parents wander past the door, loudly talking with one another.
“Ah don’t get how they keep it up!” said Pa.
“It’s a lovely tradition to maintain, and if it keeps her happy, then it’s good for me,” Ma replied.
“For heaven’s sake, she’s nearly 10!” Pa exclaimed. “When will she ever grow up?”
I knew that they were talking about me, but why it was such a problem to them I had no idea.
“Remember the Christmas spirit!” Ma answered. “What would Christmas be otherwise than an exercise in capitalism?”
“Christmas was when a baby was born, not when some random man on a sleigh drops off a load of parcels. Besides, how many copyright patents has he infringed?”
“Keep it down, the kids are asleep!”
“We’ll discuss this further in the morning.” Pa’s word was final as they walked away to their room.
I had never seen this side of them. Did they really have this much of a problem with it? I decided I’d stry and answer the issue myself. I climbed out of bed, and grabbed an encyclopaedia, turning to the entry for North Pole:
North Pole, northern end of Earth’s axis, lying in the Arctic Ocean, about 450 miles (725 km) north of Greenland. This geographic North Pole does not coincide with the magnetic North Pole—to which magnetic compasses point and which in the early 21st century lay north of the Queen Elizabeth Islands of extreme northern Canada at approximately 82°15′ N 112°30′ W (it is steadily migrating northwest)—or with the geomagnetic North Pole, the northern end of Earth’s geomagnetic field (about 79°30′ N 71°30′ W). The geographic pole, located at a point where the ocean depth is about 13,400 feet (4,080 metres) deep and covered with drifting pack ice, experiences six months of complete sunlight and six months of total darkness each year.
It was clear this wasn’t what I was looking for. I skipped on a few pages;
The first ships to visit the pole were the U.S. nuclear submarines Nautilus (1958) and Skate (1959), the latter surfacing through the ice, and the Soviet icebreaker Arktika was the first surface ship to reach it (1977). Other notable surface expeditions include the first confirmed to reach the pole (1968; via snowmobile), the first to traverse the polar region (1969; Alaska to Svalbard, via dog sled), and the first to travel to the pole and back without resupply (1986; also via dog sled); the last expedition also included the first woman to reach the pole, American Ann Bancroft.
This wasn’t helping to quell my doubts; far from it. I climbed back into bed, hoping I’d get some sleep at last.
But something strange happened. My clock, as it approached 23:59, suddenly stopped. The stars outside had stopped moving as well.
But then my room began to shake as a loud...chuffing sound echoed through the air. A whistle roared and steam flew up in the distance. The noise began to slow down as time went on. I jumped out of bed, and grabbed my dressing gown.
But as I moved, I tore the pocket. I continued to sprint, pulling on my shoes and a pair of socks as I went along.
I ran down to the main road, to be presented with a sight I would never forget.
In front of me, was a massive train of 20 coaches, each of them stainless steel cars approximately 50 feet long. Each was finished out in a silver and red livery, and bore the text ‘Polar Express’.
I walked up the train, my mind utterly baffled at this sight. Sitting at the front of the train, was a massive steam locomotive. It had two leading wheels, eight massive driving wheels, and four trailing wheels mounted under a massive firebox. The boiler was huge, and covered in pipes leaking steam into the cold air, and the boiler had two massive domes. The air reservoirs sat underneath the high running board, and the locomotive had a large cowcatcher mounted to the front, with a knuckle eye coupler on the very front.
The cab had multiple windows, and the engineer looked out at the terrain ahead. I knew that the terrain was pretty flat up ahead. The engine’s tender had the text ‘Polar Express’ written on the side.
Suddenly, a voice called to me down the train. It belonged to a tall man with a moustache, who was wearing a conductor’s uniform. “May I ask your name?”
“A-Apple Bloom, sir,” I stammered. This was because it was rather cold.
“You have a reservation onboard this train. Ya comin’?” he asked.
“Where?” I asked.
“To the North Pole, of course!” the conductor replied. “This is the Polar Express!”
I stood for a moment. But then I extended my hand and he pulled me up the steps.
“You’ve made a good choice,” he said. The train started to move away, the engine snorting steam into the air and making short work of the heavy train.
I was truly away on the adventure of a lifetime.