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Creepy Mall Santa
Oh gods, stop shooting at me
Wait a minute, you’re—
My name is Apollo. You might know me as the dashingly handsome god of the sun, god of archery, god of music, god of oracles, god of healing, or as the god of several other domains. What can I say? I’m a deity of many talents.
You might also know me as Lester Papadopoulos — an extremely average-looking seventeen year old with curly brown hair and not a single godly power to his name. My father, Zeus, had decided to punish me by turning me into a mortal teenage boy, subjecting me to the horrors of “acne” and “flab” — frightening stuff. I had to complete some challenging trials (I won’t bore you with the details, but it involved restoring my oracles, defeating three wannabe Roman emperor-gods, and nearly dying far too many times to count), but earlier this year I was finally restored to my godly form and resumed my place on Olympus.
You might then be wondering why Lester Papadopoulos was standing in line at a mall in Palm Springs, California, waiting to meet Santa Claus. Frankly, I myself was wondering the same thing.
I looked over to my young companion. “Meg, remind me why we’re here again?”
Meg McCaffrey — a child-turning-teenager with a fashion sense that could most charitably be described as “bold,” who happened to be both a daughter of Demeter and my former master — rolled her eyes. “I told you that you didn’t have to come.”
“No, no, I’m happy to join you,” I assured her, “I just don’t fully understand…”
She shrugged. “It’s my first winter not living in Nero’s house — the first one I can really remember, anyway. I wanted to, I don’t know, see what all the hype was about Christmas.”
Nero — one of the aforementioned wannabe emperor-gods. He was Meg’s abusive former stepfather, and a man who had a penchant for burning Christians alive on crosses — no, I couldn’t imagine he would have tolerated any inklings of a Christmas celebration under his roof.
“Why this, though?”
“I looked up a list of Christmas activities,” she said matter-of-factly. “This was at the top.”
We shuffled forward as the line moved.
“Hey Apollo, is Santa Claus real?”
“Well, the man we’re waiting in line to meet is just an ordinary mortal in a costume,” I answered.
The woman in line in front of us covered her son’s ears, then glared at me.
I lowered my voice. “But as for whether a real Santa exists…” I shrugged. “I’m honestly not sure.” We gods tend to keep our noses out of other pantheons — things get too confusing otherwise.
Meg hummed. We inched closer to the giant candy cane-striped poles at the front of the line.
“Artemis inspired a lot of the legends around Santa Claus, you know.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “Yeah, like the whole sleigh-pulled-by-reindeer thing — that’s all her.” It was hilarious, seeing some of Artemis’s mythology co-opted by a jolly old man. I always remembered to tease her about it when the weather turned cold.
“Are you not a little old to be sitting in Santa’s lap?” a female voice drawled from my left. I turned around to see a young woman dressed in a green dress and stockings, with turned up shoes and a hat with a jingle bell dangling from the point. She was very pretty.
“I could always sit in your lap instead,” I said with a winning smile. It should have made her melt… but I had forgotten that I currently looked like seventeen year old Lester Papadopoulos.
Her lip curled, and I was struck with the sudden feeling that I should recognize her. “I would rather eat this stupid hat than—”
“Ohhhh-kay!” Another young woman dressed as an elf pushed her way between us, steering Meg and I towards the dais. “Santa can see the next guests now, here you go.” She shoved us (well, me) rather unceremoniously towards the bearded old man.
I had to admit, the man hired to play Santa Claus was a good fit for the part. Seated on the throne-like oversized green armchair was a plump old man dressed all in red, whose snowy white beard looked to be the real deal. His cheeks were indeed rosy, and his silvery-grey eyes seemed to twinkle behind the pair of spectacles perched on his cherry-red nose.
“Ho ho ho,” he motioned towards Meg, who climbed into his lap. “What is your name, my dear?”
“Meg.”
“And what would you like this year?”
“I—” Meg glanced at me, then whispered in Santa’s ear so I couldn’t hear what she said.
He raised his eyebrows. “That is your desire?”
She nodded.
His eyes softened. “I will do what I can, young Meg.”
Meg smiled, then gestured for me to come over.
“Oh— No, I don’t think…”
“Come on Lester,” said Meg, getting up and physically dragging me towards the armchair. “You’re holding up the line.”
Thankfully, I managed to sit myself down on the cushion next to Santa, rather than in the man’s lap. “Um, hi,” I said.
His hand came down on my shoulder, harder than I expected. “I don’t think I need to ask you what you want,” he said in a voice for my ears only, “do I, Apollo?”
I froze. “How— How did you—?”
He chuckled. “I think you’ll get what you deserve.”
A shiver went up my spine. “Meg—”
Santa cut me off. “Yes, come back young Meg. We will now take a photograph.”
The photographer was another young woman dressed as an elf. “Everybody smile for Santa.” She said it so unenthusiastically I could hardly believe she’d been hired for the job. “Three, two, one, Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Meg and I chorused as the camera flashed.
Later, I saw a copy of the photo — Meg was smiling. I looked like someone had whacked me over the head with the giant candy cane.
We went into the Hallmark store next.
“I’m telling you Meg, that Santa was creepy.”
Meg breezed past the stuffed animals without interest. “He seemed nice to me.”
“You didn’t hear what he said to me! He was all ‘you’ll get what you deserve.’” I gestured with my hands to emphasize the creepiness.
Meg snorted. “Does that mean you’re on the naughty list?” She bent over to inspect the bin of wrapping paper rolls, then picked up a tube decorated with unicorns, twirling and brandishing it like a weapon.
“He called me Apollo.”
That, at least, gave her pause. “Maybe he overheard us talking earlier.”
“But—”
She bonked me on the head with the roll of wrapping paper. “Hey, what are these for, anyway?”
After she was done with the wrapping paper, Meg moved onto the rows and rows of holiday greeting cards. I stood next to her, waiting for her to finish — and no, I was not sulking.
The jingling of bells at the entrance told me that someone else had entered the shop. I peeked around the corner and immediately regretted it.
“Meg,” I hissed. “Meg!”
She looked up from a card that read, Christmas is always a CLAUS for celebration! “What?”
“I think Santa Claus is stalking me.”
“Okay.” She flipped through a few more cards, including one that blasted a very tinny rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. “Can we go ice skating next?”
Meg and I argued all the way to the ice rink, which was conveniently located inside the mall.
“You’re overreacting, Apollo. It’s like that time with the two-headed snake man. You were totally convinced he was gonna attack you.”
“Two-hea— The amphisbaena?!”
Meg snapped her fingers. “Yeah, that guy.”
“The one who recited part of the terza rima prophecy, telling us our lives depended on Nero’s own?”
Meg gestured as if to say, what’s your point? “Did he attack you?”
“W-well, no.”
“See? Overreacting.”
“That’s hardly fair,” I spluttered. “Luguselwa shot him dead less than two seconds later! We don’t know that he wouldn’t have tried attacking me.”
Meg gave me a pitying look.
“In any case, why would Santa have gone into the Hallmark store if not to follow me?”
“How about because it’s near the North Pole area and he was on a break?”
I… didn’t actually have anything to counter such a reasonable explanation. But the ice rink was four floors away and on the opposite side of the mall. I knew that if Santa appeared there, it would be proof that he was following me.
Despite my misgivings, the skating was actually quite fun. Artemis, of course, enjoys all manner of outdoor activities, so ice skating is something I occasionally do with her, and I actually enjoy it. Meg was also better than I’d expected. I must confess that I thought she would cling to the sides the whole time, but she took to it the way she does with most athletic activities — a decent amount of skill, and enough enthusiasm to make up for the rest.
The trouble didn’t come until afterwards.
After exchanging the rental skates for our shoes, Meg and I split up briefly — Meg to get us a table, and me to buy hot chocolate from the concession stand. I had just gotten in line when I saw him around the corner, leaning casually up against the wall. As if he could sense I was looking at him, Santa turned to meet my gaze.
Then he winked.
“That was fast,” Meg remarked as I approached the table. “Wait, where’s our hot chocolate?”
“I’ll buy you some somewhere else,” I promised, ushering her through the mall. “I’ll make it myself, even. But we need to get out of here, now.”
We made it through the mall without incident. When we got to the parking lot I had almost started to relax, which you should never do when you are being followed by a creepy-stalker-mall-Santa. Because somehow, he had beaten us there, and he was standing in the middle of the lot, staring right at me.
I ran.
Now Apollo, you might be thinking, you’re a god! Why not use your godly powers to smite him, or at least draw upon your bow and arrow, or combat ukulele? A reasonable question. But dear reader, I’m afraid I must admit…
I forgot.
Look, after a long period of being a mostly helpless mortal, certain habits just get ingrained, you know? Especially since I was currently in my Lester form. If I’d had more time to think about it I could have done something else, but as it was, all my thoughts were devoted to getting away as fast as possible. Meg, not wanting to be left behind, had little choice but to run with me.
We were making good ground — when I glanced back I couldn’t even see the red-suited man among the cars behind us. But then I said the five words you should never say when you are being pursued.
“I think we lost him!”
As soon as the words left my mouth, a looming shadow overtook us. I looked up to see Santa on his flying sleigh, pulled by a team of eight reindeer.
Well, at least that confirmed my suspicion that he wasn’t an ordinary mortal.
As Meg and I watched in stunned horror, the old man reached into a sack and pulled out… A bow and arrow?
The whizzing of an arrow narrowly missing my ear was enough to get us back into motion.
“Does Santa Claus have a bow and arrow in the stories?” Meg shouted, ducking and weaving to avoid the volley of arrows.
“I don’t think so,” I shouted back, “but I don’t know enough about Christianity to say otherwise!”
Meg yelped as the elf-women appeared seemingly out of nowhere, separating the two of us. I tried to go after her, but the arrows from above kept me from moving in that direction.
I turned the other way, running down an alley that I hoped would be too narrow for the sleigh to follow. Unfortunately for me, it was also a dead end. I stared aghast at the brick wall, listening to the clunking, scraping sound of boots on the asphalt behind me.
“Nowhere to go, Apollo.”
I turned around, expecting to find myself on the wrong end of Santa’s bow, with an arrow aimed straight at my chest. Instead, I saw something far stranger.
Before my eyes, the old man began to transform. The red suit warped and changed, lightening in color until it was a dress whiter than the freshly driven snow. In contrast, his hair darkened to a deep auburn, growing in length until it was past his shoulders. Wrinkles and the beard melted away, and the body shrunk from an old man to the figure of a girl who appeared no more than fifteen. The only feature to remain unchanged was the eye color — the silvery-grey eyes of my twin sister, Artemis.
“You should see the look on your face, little brother,” she cackled.
A million questions flooded my brain, but the first one out of my mouth was, “What happened to Meg?”
Artemis rolled her eyes and grabbed my wrist, dragging me out of the alley. There I saw Meg, standing unharmed amongst the group of elf-women. No, I realized, not elves.
They were the Hunters of Artemis.
I looked back to my sister, my mind still reeling. “What… Why… Why did you do this?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Isn’t this what you wanted, brother of mine?”
“…What?”
Artemis smiled. It was not a friendly expression — more akin to the baring of a wolf’s teeth than a gesture of good intentions. “You do so well to remind me every year when the air chills and the mortals decorate their homes with potted conifer trees.” She raised her voice to a high falsetto. “‘Oh Artemis, is your chariot prepared with toys for the little children?’ Or, ‘Are you ready for the big day? No, not the winter solstice, the other thing.’ Or—” Her eyes flashed. “Any number of comparisons between myself and one who is wrinkled, bearded, and a man.”
Ah. Teasing my sister had come back to bite me.
I gulped. “W-well, I’m afraid there’s really only one thing I can say…”
“And what is that?” asked Artemis.
I locked eyes with Meg. “Run!”