Suggested themes: Hello by Evanescence, Forgotten Children/Vergessene Kinder by Tokio Hotel
The Globe of Belief. A giant globe of the earth with lights glimmering all over the continents, each one representing the location of a child who believed in the Guardians. Good or bad, naughty or nice, the Guardians strive to protect the children of the world, bringing them wonder, hope, memories, dreams and joy.
Yet, they can't protect every child. Not anymore.
Tooth loved watching the children. It was the best part of her job. Flying around with her fairies exchanging teeth left under pillows for change could be a tiring and mundane job but all her weariness seemed to fade when Tooth hovered above the sleeping children, watching the smiles on their faces as they were tickled by sweet dreams. Every tooth collected held a memory of some sort and it was Tooth's duty to store those memories and return them to the children whenever needed.
But not all memories can be returned. Tooth was always at a loss when her fairies brought back chipped teeth, most belonging to victims of bullying. Victims of neglect. Victims of abuse. Victims who still believed despite their situations. It broke her heart to see sad, woeful faces of sleeping kids with bruises and scars. Kids who seeked solace in sleep and sweet dreams because their life was a nightmare. Occasionally, she would receive teeth knocked out in fights. The queen of the tooth fairies gazed at each molar, incisor or canine that contained bad memories. Teeth that never made the caskets. Tooth couldn't imagine herself bringing back to a child memories that he or she never want to remember. Just as she could return good memories to the children, she wished she could destroy some of the teeth, along with the bad memories they carried, but she knew she could never truly take them all away from the children.
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Christmas was meant to be a time of peace, joy, love and wonder. The preparations for one of the biggest events of the year began as early as the end of Christmas every year. Letters were delivered to Santa requesting toys, books and all sorts of other things. North made sure he went through each and every one of them and the Yetis would immediately set to work on the playthings asked for by the children on the Nice list.
But there were some things the Yetis could never make.
It broke North's heart as he read through letters of children pouring out their woes and imploring him to help them.
"For Christmas, I just want my mom and dad to stop screaming at each other."
"Santa, you're our only hope, no one cares anymore."
"Santa, I just want them to stop bullying me."
"Santa, I just want this war to be over."
North was aware of vast green spaces on the Globe of Belief that had no lights. And for quite some time, there had been none. The perpetual wonder in his eyes was quick to be replaced with sadness and despair as his heart went out to the children he could not reach, the children dying of hunger every minute, children who never survived infancy, children living in poverty, children who did not know how to read, write or count, children who had never known wonder since the day they were born.
Each year, before he set out on his sleigh to deliver presents, he would always have to make alterations to the list; by crossing out a number of names; children who had finally given up or given in.
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Spring represented rebirth, new life. It delighted Bunnymund as he hid in the bushes and watched as the children discovered hidden Easter eggs on their annual Easter egg hunt, eggs of every color, decorated with unique patterns, some of which he had painted himself. Bunnymund brought hope to children. But he could not bring hope to every child.
As Bunny raced through his tunnels on Easter, hiding eggs here and there, in every part of the world, often he would see children for whom hope had forever died. Child refugees, crying, homeless, fearful. Parents grieving over their dead children. Wounded children, orphaned kids who knew there was no hope left in the world. Children whose large tearful eyes were devoid of hope and filled only with dread and sadness. Children who were condemned to prostitution, for whom hope was a folly, something useless that could not help them escape their fate.
Try as he might, Bunnymund cannot bring hope to every child.
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Jack Frost was the Guardian of Fun. His duty was to bring it to the children of the world, and watching them have the time of their lives as they played and had fun took away any regret he would ever feel about having been chosen to be a guardian. He reveled in hearing the delighted screams of children as they pelted each other with snowballs and attempt to escape their pursuers in games of tags.
But it was impossible to bring fun to every child.
Jack was also the winter spirit, and besides bringing fun to children, he brought winter, too. As he flew across the globe, he witnessed the lives of children for whom the word 'fun' wasn't a part of their vocabulary. Jack's heart felt heavy as he watched the victims of child labor, trafficking and slavery as they toiled away, spending their childhood hard at work, work that wasn't yet of their caliber. Jack could only watch as children who were victims to stress, depression and inferiority took their own lives. Jack could only stand by and watch those grim and sorrowful expressions, knowing that it was almost impossible to see a smile curving from those lips or to hear a cheerful laugh escaping from them.
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Sandy did the best he could. He was the weaver of sweet dreams, dreams he tried to deliver to every child. The dreams he crafted differed for every child. They were usually in the form of that particular child's desires and wishes. It pained the Sandman to realise that there were children who dreamt of basic human necessities and better lives.
But he always felt a sense of self-satisfaction as the children, no matter what battle they were fighting during the day, relaxed and slept peacefully at night; peace and joy that was always shattered each morning when the unfortunate children woke up to reality. There were times when Sandy wasn't entirely sure if bringing such wonderful dreams was a good idea.
Sandy visited the children every night, and always, there were some who weren't there the next. It broke the little man's heart as he saw the bodies of children whom his Dreamsand could never reach again, whose smiles he would never see again. Who died for such trivial reasons.
And that drove the Sandman to go on creating good dreams for all the children, to ensure that they could have something to look forward to every night. For some to seek solace in. For them to be at peace for once a night. For those who already had Death circling them.
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Fear, hopelessness, emptiness. Dread, war, lost lives. But the feeling was nothing like what he felt during the Dark Ages. Pitch should be celebrating. He had, in a way, triumphed over the guardians, but he felt nothing. During the Dark Ages, everyone was afraid of the dark. Afraid of him. He reveled in their fear. But times had changed. There was a new type of fear, one that wasn't Pitch's doing. His fear had been meant to teach, especially to little children, whose parents frightened them with the tale of the Boogeyman to avoid them from getting themselves into greater trouble.
This new type of fear was only educational to those who did not feel it. And Pitch could only watch the suffering in the world, helpless. Fear of the dark, nightmares and him, the Boogeyman, all seemed so trivial when in comparison to what was really going on.
The Guardians could not bring wonder, joy, hope and memories nor could they protect every child, but they would try their best with every other child they could.