Disclaimer: I do not own A Christmas Story. It belongs to Charles Dickens.

William Becomes a King

A long, long time ago, there was a small kingdom, where everyone was happy and content and the king was deeply loved by all his subjects. It was such a long time ago that hardly anyone can remember the goings on that happened there. But I was there. And I saw all. So I will tell you about a time when not all was well in the kingdom and the king was not so loved. Sit down now and I will tell you all.

King William was a proud king. Everything he wished was done. He lived in a large palace. And he had a lovely twelve-year-old daughter, Mary. But he was also cold and always wanted more and more money. He lived and breathed money. While he stayed in his treasure room, counting his money for days on end, the people of the country became poorer and poorer. They could not get any audiences with the king. Little Mary, however, would come down to the village and give out bread.

But it was Christmas that King William hated the most. He could not see why everyone became so cheerful, why holly and pine decorated everything, and why everyone would go out in the cold, singing carols and having bonfires and being merry. And all the present giving! Why, if there were a tax on getting presents, he would have to have another treasury built! Such a waste it was --spending money on such plain things like wooden animals and little scarves, when he could get ten fresh horses!

Now it was Christmas Eve again, which always came too soon for William. Mary was in the village, once again giving out bread and wishing all a merry Christmas. And the grownups who took her bread whispered to one another, "Ah! How sweet she is! So kind-hearted, too. Just like her mother. Why couldn't the king be as warm as she, instead of cold?" After all the bread had been given away, Mary had enjoyed a snowball fight with the children under the watchful eye of her kind nanny.

And where was William all this time? In his treasury, counting his money. Sometimes the voices of carolers would float up to his window, and he would growl softly to himself, "The wretches! Don't they know that such noise will make me lose count?"

Then came the black of night; the singing voices were no more, the fires died down, and all the lights in the village blinked out one by one, as all went peacefully to bed that night.

William was still counting his money by candlelight when Mary entered. "What do you want?" he asked gruffly.

"It's after eight o'clock, Father," Mary said.

"Well, then, you should head to bed," William said without looking up from his pile of gold.

"Yes, Father," Mary answered. "Good night."

She hugged him and would have kissed his cheek, but he pushed her away, and in doing so, his arm knocked into some stacks of coins piled on each other. Gold coins rolled allover the table and floor.

"Oh! Look what you made me do!" William shouted. "Now I'll have to start over."

"I'm sorry, Father. Here, let me help you pick them up," Mary offered.

"Get out of my sight!" William commanded. "You shall stay in your room tomorrow for doing such a thing."

"Oh, please, Father! Tomorrow is Christmas. Let me go down to the village in the morning for the festival, and I will stay here all the rest of the day. Please!" Mary begged.


William was by now in a terrible rage and wanted to be rid of the child as soon as possible. "All right! But only until the bells chime noon."

Mary moved to thank him, but he again pushed her away. "Now, get out of my sight!"

Mary held her head high, hid her sorrow, and kept the sob in her throat till the door closed behind her and she was in her nanny's warm, loving arms.

William gathered the scattered money and started counting. Over an hour later, William's eyelids started feeling heavy, and he finally left the treasury and went up to his bedchamber. After getting into his nightgown, he crept under his bed covers and was soon fast asleep.

He tossed and he turned. He saw Elizabeth -- his Elizabeth. When they had run along the little brook in the garden, she had been so beautiful. And she was even lovelier in his dreams. "Come and catch me, William," she cooed softly. He reached out his hand to grab her, but she slipped out of his grasp. "Come, William," she said, holding out her hands. He paused. Midnight struck. A mist rose and she disappeared from his sight.

"Elizabeth!" he called.

"William…," her voice came distantly. "William…."

He could not see a thing now; he was surrounded by darkness.

"William."

William opened his eyes. Standing at his bedside was a lovely young woman. She had a flowing dress of gold. She was barefoot. Her hair was of golden sunbeams. She wore on her head a crown of holly. Her skin was golden like a child's who had played in the sun, and her eyes were the color of the blue sky. On her shoulders was a set of golden wings. She was surrounded by a golden light.

William held a hand in front of his face to shield his eyes from the bright light. "Who are you?" he asked in a gruff, trembling voice.

"I am your fairy godmother," the woman answered in a voice that was as soft as a flowing brook and as mighty as the loud bells.

"What do you want?"

"I have come to take you on a journey," the fairy godmother said. "For days on end you sit in your treasury counting your gold while the kingdom becomes poorer and poorer."

"The kingdom is not poor," William objected. "I receive gifts from my nobles every day. All is fine."

The woman shook her head. "But you do not help your other subjects. You do not accept audiences with your people. You are unworthy of the title king. Come now," the woman said, stepping toward the open window. "Time slips by."

William shivered from the cold wind that came in. "It is cold. And I will fall, for I have no wings."

The woman held out her hand. "Hold on to my hand, and you will not feel the cold, and neither shall you fall. Come."