Soon after the fall equinox, the North Pole descends into darkness. The sun able to eke out a faint twilight each night. The northern lights paint the horizons a watercolor fancy of reds and greens, fitting for the Christmas season. The dark cold creating the perfect, secret environment for the grand season. It's not surprising the whole enterprise has never been seen. Santa's workshop sits at the top of the world. Modest in size for the massive undertaking it delivers every year without fail. Only a few buildings and structures are visible. The warm glow of interior lights cast long glimmers over the white snow. The north pole marker sits just in front of the massive, wooden doors that typically open twice a year to allow Santa's sleigh to exit and enter. The magic is below ground, carved into the frozen ocean.

Dublin, Ireland – November

Dear Santa,

My name is Missy and I am a cobbler elf. I am writing to you to ask for a wish. I was born with a thing in my back. The doctors got it out, and since then I haven't been able to walk. Isn't that weird? I can't ever remember walking. I've always had my wheels.

Making shoes is what my parents do, but I really don't fit in here at the shoe store. They are worried and asked me to write you.

So, my wish this year: I would like to come to the North Pole to be one of your elves.

Love, Missy.

P.S. I don't take up too much room.

In an instant, The Wish List had a new entry. Page 34,937, Fitsimmons, Missy: Work at the North Pole in calligraphic lettering. The Wish List resides in The Room of Lists. A small, round room with two alabaster pedestals. The other pedestal holding The Naughty List. Dimly lit, the Room of Lists is Santa's realm. After Christmas, the pedestals are empty. The Naughty List usually appears around March, The Wish List's appearance varies from year to year. Each evening The Wish List is brought to Santa for review.

"Delta! Mickey!" Santa softly shouted. Almost immediately two elves skidded into Santa's Quarters. The elves' slippers were no match for the toy shop's smooth, wooden floors.

"Just as we thought. Missy wishes to come to the North Pole." Santa said as he turned the open paged book.

"Splendid, sir," said Mickey. Mickey was Santa's COE, Chief Operations Elf. A veteran toy-maker, Mickey rose through the ranks, starting in extrusion plastics and moving into injection molds. He stayed behind the scenes on the Assembly Line relying on his production crew to handle the nitty-gritty of making toys. Mickey was the final say on December 24, 23:59:50 hours. If there was any elf to replace Santa, Mickey was that elf. He was respected, because he returned respect.

"We will need some special accommodations, sir?" Asked Delta.

"Nothing over the top, gentlemen. The hallways here are wide enough and the doors … well, if there big enough for me!" Santa smiled as he patted his robust torso.

"Missy needs to feel normal here. You know where I am going with this?" Santa asked.

"Right, yes…lower chest of drawers, longer curtain pulls, a bit more space alongside her bed for her wheelcha – wait a minute…" Delta was babbling on. "I think we can do wonders with her wheelchair, sir. Do we know anything of it?"

"We'll find out soon enough, but I like how you're thinking, Delta." Santa was stroking his mustache. "She's a normal child, and a good cobbler elf. She wants to fit in."

"Prepare the sleigh. Four reindeer. Comet, Cupid … Blitzen is sick, right?" Santa questioned.

"Dancer's sick, sir." Delta replied.

"Blitzen and Prancer, then." Santa confirmed. "That should get you to the Iceland Harbor unnoticed. The Fitsimmons will be waiting. All clear?" Santa chimed as he dipped a fountain pen into a red ink well.

"Yes, sir." Delta and Mickey replied.

"Thank you." Santa said as he gestured to the door with his fountain pen.

Santa penned a note to the Fitsimmons detailing the arrangements. The note would appear in their mailbox, and there would be no turning back.