The man shut the door silently behind the boys, shutting them out in the cold once again. Sam walked down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction of where they came. Dean watched his brother walk for a while before asking, with all the patience of a mother scolding her child, "Where are you going?"
Sam turned, nodding his head in the direction that he was walking, "The Library."
"Why?" Dean might have over exaggerated his exasperation, but this was Sam he was talking to. Everything he did seemed to get under his skin.
Sam replied in the same tone that Dean used, mocking him, "So I can find out who Black Peter is."
"Whatever," Dean started walking in the opposite direction of Sam, "Do what you want, see if I care."
Sam shrugged and continued to the Library, oblivious to Dean's mood. When Dean noticed that his brother wasn't following him he curse, muttering to him, "Fuck you Sam."
Sam arrived at the library five minutes later, his legs numb and cheeks burning. He had seen the building when they were walking around town the other day, making a note to visit it later when Dean wasn't around. He didn't strike Sam as the academic type. Like every other building in the town, the Library was any book lovers dream. There were shelves upon shelves of books, all in pristine condition, looking as if they hadn't even been touched yet. Each genre of books each had their own room, making Sam's want to explore each corner even worse. Instead of giving in he walked to the back of the building where five sleek apple computers stood, pushed into the far corner as if to say 'Out of sight, out of mind'. It was a library after all; the books were the main focus.
Sam sat down before the last one, one that could only be seen if you were directly before it, hidden by shelves and the wall angle.
It was easier than Sam expected to find anything on the name 'Black Peter'; millions of hits came up on the name alone. Clicking on the first website to appear Sam began to read.
There are many traditions around the world that center around the winter solstice. Christmas and Hanukah are two of them most widely known celebrations, but there are a few smaller ones that people celebrate as well, one of them is Sinterklaas.
This celebration originated from the countries that we now call Germany and Holland. The tale begins much like the story of Santa Claus, a man helps save a family of young girls but until like the widely known version it in not from poverty but prostitution. And the money did not appear in their drying stockings but in their shoes, the reason that children now put their shoes out before the fireplace in anticipation of getting something in them the next morning.
These similarities are found because the tale of Santa Claus was derived from the Sinterklaas story itself. Sinterklaas travels from rooftop to rooftop on a white horse; Santa goes from rooftop to rooftop using reindeer. Sinterklaas gives candy to children when they are good; Santa gives toys (this change was made after WWII, when consumerism boomed). Sinterklaas leaves a chocolate letter in children's shoes while Santa leaves presents in stockings. Both are dressed in red and have large white beards, their personalities something of a kind grandfather. Cookies would be left out for both of the men and carrots for their respective animals.
There are also many differences between the two stories as well. While Santa Claus comes from the North Pole on the 24th of December, Sinterklaas comes from Spain, travelling to Holland on a steamboat on the eve of the 5th, arriving on the 6th. From there he goes from house to house on his horse; Santa travels on his sleigh the whole time. Santa hands out presents; Sinterklaas gives out mandarins and candy. Santa is dressed in a red suit where as Sinterklaas is dressed in traditional bishop garb. While Santa has friendly elves, Sinterklaas travels around with five or eight men given the title 'Zwarte Piet'.
Children in America are told stories about getting coal in their stockings if they were naughty. Children in Holland have much more to worry about. The character known as 'Zwarte Piet' carries around a sack with him as he goes from house to house with Sinterklaas. He is known by the fact that his skin is completely black. There are stories that say Zwarte Piet was a slave freed by Sinterklaas and decided to travel with him and help him on his travels. The story changed in the last 20th century to say that his face is black due to the soot on the inside of the chimneys that he would climb up and down.
The sack that Zwarte Piet carried around held candy and the broom of a chimney sweep. If the children were good, they received candy. If the children were bad, Zwarte Piet would beat them with the broom. If the children were especially naughty Zwarte Piet would take the children in his sack back to Spain, making the children into pepernootjes or kruidnoten, both a type of cookie that would be left by Sinterklaas on the doorsteps of houses.
Sam's eyes got wider and as he read, the nauseous feeling in his stomach growing as he continued. It finally came to a boiling point when he read about the cookies. He ran to the nearest trashcan, emptying the contents of his stomach. Sam leaned his head against the trashcan and moaned, the feeling of nausea not leaving.
He had eaten one of the cookies.
The man shut the door behind the boys, resting his head against the wooden frame as he let out a deep breath, his heart rate slowing down.
He stood straight, slightly grateful that his niece had come back to him, safe and sound. Esther had been put in his care after her mother and father had both disappeared. It might have been because she was born out of wedlock, but no one made speculations, tongues were as silent as the dead when it came to this town. They only spoke of that which was smiled upon, which was not much.
"Mordecai." The voice came from behind the man, startling him and making him jump. He spun around, his heart rate spiking once again as he saw the man standing behind him. He was there, the ghost that stories had been told about and passed down from generation to generation, name only being spoken once but imprinted on minds for lifetimes. The fear that was associated with him was something that no human should ever live with, the reminders of who he was following them everyday of their lives.
"Do you know why I am here?" The man spoke again, his voice low and calm, as if he was soothing a child.
"No." Mordecai refused to look at him, his eyes moving from wall to wall, seeking anything to focus his attention on other than the creature before him.
"Now Mordecai, you know what is said about lying," the man took a step closer to Mordecai, tilting his head down so he could catch the others mans eyes.
Mordecai kept his gaze on the ground, hands shaking once again, "Of course. I was taught many years ago."
"So do you not understand what you just did?" The man was still speaking to him in a soft tone, slow like he was trying to get him to understand the words that he was saying.
"It was not a lie, it was truth." Mordecai's voice was stronger, giving him the strength to dare to look up.
The man was smiling, something that sent even more shivers down Mordecai's spine, "Very good. Very good. But you still disobeyed Mordecai. My name was never to be spoken, did I not tell you that when I came all those years ago? The night I came to your house and gave you a warning like all the others? Another chance Mordecai, not many get one of those, and yet you did. And you still choose to disobey? Does it not state the you shall obey the laws of man?"
Mordecai dropped his face again, "Yes, but it says that you shall not lie."
"So it does, but is it seen as lying by saying that you may not tell as it is forbidden. No, for this is the truth, and the truth will set you free Mordecai." The voice was getting closer, Mordecai refusing to look up.
Straining with one last hope Mordecai whispered, "Is it not also written that the blameless shall throw the first stone?"
"So it does Mordecai. Good thing me and my brothers are without blame," and the man descended upon him and Mordecai knew no more.