Santa’s Sleepless Encounter

December 20, 2025December 3, 2025BenjaminLeave a comment

This story is pulled from the archives as a celebration for the season edition.

Groff Media 2024© Truth Endures IMDbPro

Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©

2–4 minutes

It was Christmas Eve. The sleigh soared high worldwide. The northern wind whistled through the bells on the reindeer harnesses. Santa Claus wore his crimson coat and had twinkling eyes. He held the reins tightly. His sack of presents was bursting at the seams. Santa’s job went beyond delivering gifts. He needed to make sure every child was sound asleep before he even set foot on their rooftops.

Santa had his secrets. He carried a special pocket watch gifted by the elves centuries ago. This watch sensed the rhythms of sleep in every home. A little pointer swung wildly when a child stirred awake. Santa would patiently wait, high above the house, until the child drifted off again.

Tonight, in a small town nestled under a blanket of snow, Santa’s watch began to twitch. He hovered over a modest little house on Maple Street.

“Ah, looks like young Clara is having a restless night,”

Santa mused, his voice soft and kind. He tapped his watch lightly, watching the pointer as it steadied.

Confident she was asleep, he climbed down the chimney with practiced ease. The room was warm, lit by the soft glow of a dying fire. Stockings hung neatly by the hearth, and the scent of pine filled the air from the brightly decorated tree. Santa moved silently. He set down a dollhouse wrapped in shimmering paper. He also placed a pair of skates for Clara. This added to the cozy atmosphere.

But a creak echoed through the room just as he reached into his sack for the next gift. Santa froze. Two wide eyes peeked out from behind the door, framed by Clara’s curly hair. She gasped audibly, her tiny face a mixture of astonishment and delight.

“Oh no!”

Santa whispered. He had a rule for centuries: no child should ever see him deliver gifts. Magic thrived on belief, and his sight can cause the magic to falter. But here she was, staring right at him.

“Santa?”

Clara asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Santa thought quickly. He tapped his boot. The room filled with a light dusting of sparkles. Clara suddenly found herself in the most enchanting of dreams. In her vision, Santa smiled and said,

“Go back to bed, little one. This is your special Christmas moment to remember only in your heart.”

Her eyes fluttered shut. She slipped back into sleep. This was a testament to Santa’s quick thinking and resourcefulness.

Santa sighed with relief and adjusted the gifts under the tree.

“Close call,”

he chuckled softly, brushing soot off his coat. Before he disappeared up the chimney, he placed an extra candy cane in Clara’s stocking. It was a silent reward for her innocent curiosity.

Outside, the reindeer waited, their noses glowing faintly in the night. Santa climbed aboard his sleigh, glancing once more at the little house before urging the team onward. As the sleigh vanished into the night, leaving behind a trail of twinkling stars, Santa smiled.

“Sometimes,”

he said to the stars,

“even the magic needs a little extra magic.”

As the sleigh vanished into the night, Santa smiled.

“Yes, sometimes,”

he repeated to the stars,

“even the magic needs a little extra magic!”

The Four Magic Words: A Father’s Legacy

September 23, 2025August 30, 2025Benjamin3 Comments

2–3 minutes

Ebom Shoobem Shoobem Shoobem

The four magic words a father passed down to his four children. He told them that anytime they were about to face trouble, they should speak those words. The assistance they required would eventually. But only if they took the necessary action for it to occur.

The words were only to be used when necessary. They should not be used as a want. Use them during a crisis, more than a wish. And a threat to life, rather than a threat to pride. If they ever abused the use of the words, then their special powers would no longer be available to them. The magic words would only be passed on when they reached the age of 18. They needed to have made plans to leave the family home.

The four children had each left their home by the time the father had reached 55 years of age. He had spent a great deal of his life enjoying his time with each of them. Now, he looked ahead to adventuring into his own life.

The father’s four children carried the words with them into the wide world. Each one held them differently. One tucked them away like a secret prayer. Another spoke them aloud when fear pressed too heavily. A third doubted them but remembered all the same. The fourth treated them like a compass hidden in the lining of a coat.

In time, each child faced a moment that tested the promise of those words. One found themselves stranded in a snowstorm, far from home. Another stood at the edge of despair after losing nearly everything they had built. A third was cornered by deceit, betrayed by someone they had trusted. And the last stood between danger and an innocent life.

In every trial, the magic words did not summon thunderbolts or winged guardians. Instead, they sharpened courage, opened a hidden door, or drew the right ally to their side. The father had spoken true—the words alone were not enough. But when joined with action, with faith, with that one step ahead, help always came.

Years later, when the father’s hair had silvered and his own journeys were slowing, the children returned to him. Around the fire, they told their stories—each different, but threaded with the same truth. The words had worked. This was not because they carried power of their own. Instead, they reminded each child that strength and salvation arrive only when one dares to act.

The father smiled, warmed by both the fire and the glow in his children’s faces. He whispered, almost to himself, “Ebom Shoobem Shoobem Shoobem.” The four children echoed it back, not as magic, but as memory.

And from then on, they knew—the words were not only for escaping danger. They were meant to be carried ahead to their own children one day. The words served as a charm. They also posed a challenge. Help will come, but only if you rise to meet it.

The Legend of the Wishing Tree: A Magical Tale

March 8, 2025BenjaminLeave a comment

1–2 minutes

Deep in the heart of the Whispering Wood stood an ancient oak known as the Wishing Tree. Its gnarled branches stretched toward the heavens. The tree’s roots twisted deep into the earth. The soil received whispering secrets from it.

The legend passed from generation to generation. It told of the tree’s magic. The tree would grant a single wish to those who truly believed.

Many travelers sought the Wishing Tree. Only a rare few with pure hearts and sincere desires ever found it. The forest guided them. The wind carried soft murmurs. These murmurs led them down winding paths until they stood before the towering oak. Beneath its emerald canopy, the air shimmered with an almost otherworldly glow.

One such seeker was a young girl named Elara. She had heard the tales from her grandmother, who had once made a wish upon the tree as a child. With hope in her heart, Elara ventured into the forest. She followed the rustling leaves and the whispering wind. Soon, she stood before the grand tree.

Kneeling upon the moss-covered roots, she closed her eyes, her heart beating with anticipation, and whispered her wish.

“I wish for our village never to go hungry again.”

Elara’s voice carried the hope. It also carried the love of her people.

The tree remained silent, its leaves barely stirring. But then, a single golden acorn dropped into Elara’s hands. She gasped as warmth spread through her fingers.

Understanding the tree’s silent message, she carried the acorn home and planted it in the center of her village.

Days turned to weeks, and soon, a miraculous tree sprouted. Its branches bore fruits of all kinds—apples, pears, oranges, and even wheat grains. The villagers rejoiced, their hearts filled with joy and relief, never knowing famine again. Elara knew, in her heart. Now a guardian of the magical grove, she understood that belief and kindness were the magic behind the Wishing Tree.

And so, the legend continued, whispered among the trees, waiting for the next believer to find their way.