You can never go back to your Christmas past. Unless you steal a time machine like I did.

 

Now, I know stealing’s not very Christmassy. But I held that holly jolly glow of days past imprisoned in my memory, like flakes in a snow globe.

I planned to go back in time when things were brighter. Maybe, I thought, it would even feel like Christmas.

 

But how did I even get a time machine? Easy. I broke into my eccentric neighbour’s shed. I was sure he wouldn’t mind.

 

“How do you work this thing?” I snarled to myself as I pushed all the buttons among the blinking lights, which I swear my neighbour must have made from leftover Christmas decorations. Just before I pressed the ‘right’ button and set the time and date on the dial, my hand slipped and propelled me to who knows where and when. I blame the spiked egg nog.

 

* * *

 

Smash!

 

The time machine crashed through a Christmas tree and presents, creating a horrible mess. I realised I had successfully travelled through space and time — and destroyed my family’s living room as a result.

 

Brilliant.

 

I stepped out of the machine as the room around me spun. I vomited under what was left of the Christmas tree. Apparently, time sickness is like seasickness, only worse.

 

Creak.

What was that? I panicked. Thinking fast, I had a flash of inspiration, courtesy of the clothing I'd spotted poking out of the backseat of the time machine. I quickly donned the bright red coat with a white fur collar.

 

A faint shape appeared in the frosted glass of the living room door. Before whoever was there could see the mess I'd made, I opened the door and stood in the hallway beyond.

 

“Santa?”

 

Then I saw him… or rather, me. Age four. A small, timid thing, long before he’d become the middle-aged, obese, balding man that stood before him in the red suit.

 

“Ho, ho, ho?” I said, holding my trembling belly. “What the heck do you want, kid?”

 

“I… I…" The boy seemed terrified.

 

“Erm…” I said, fishing in my pocket and finding a mint. “Here, have a sweetie.”

 

“Did you get the list I sent you?” he asked.

 

“Erm, yeah,” I said. “But to be honest, kid, I would lower my expectations if I were you. Not just for Christmas, but for life.”

 

He frowned, mouth agape.

 

"Now, get back to bed," I ordered. "Or I’ll set Rudolph on you. And I have to warn ya — he can be nasty.”

 

The younger me nodded and bounded up the stairs.

 

"What an annoying brat," I said, shaking my head.

 

Alone now, I looked around the room. Any remnant of glowing nostalgia I was hoping to see there had vanished. I had wrecked everything.

 

It was only when I looked at the date on the time machine dial that it all made sense.

I hadn’t travelled back to my best Christmas. It was my worst. The only good memory from that year was that I had met Santa. But now I knew the truth about that.

 

I sat in the wreckage for a while, trying to think of how to make things right.

 

More creaking. Voices. Adult voices this time.

 

I jumped into the time machine, accidentally pushing another random button.

 

“AI Assistant activating,” a voice droned.

 

“What?”

 

“What is your command?”

 

Shadows at the door. Instinctively I whispered, “Hide!”

 

“Camouflage activated,” said the machine, then it disappeared, along with me, just as my parents burst through the door swearing loudly.

 

“Not too loud, you’ll wake Daniel," Dad hushed Mum.

 

She wrung her hands. “What are we going to do? Everything’s ruined. Christmas is—”

 

"No, Sharon,” Dad sighed. The young father of good cheer I had hoped to meet looked almost as old as the last time I'd seen him. “We can’t let this happen. Whatever monster did this, we can’t let them ruin our Christmas. We can’t let them ruin Dan’s Christmas.”

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

Dad closed his eyes, as if in prayer. After a few seconds, he looked at Mum and held her hand.

“I don't know yet. Why don’t you take Dan for a walk in the park? I’m sure it will be lovely this morning. Just wrap up warm. I’ll deal with this.”

 

“What will I tell him?”

 

Dad smiled. “Just tell him his silly old dad overslept. Go on. When you come back, I’ll help make Christmas dinner.”

“No, you won’t. Not if we want it made properly,” Mum smiled.

 

“Of course.” They kissed.

 

Creak.

 

“Mummy! I saw Santa!” said the kid.

 

“Santa?” Mum repeated. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, Santa hasn’t been here this year.”

“Yes, he was, Mum. He really was here!”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll explain,” she said, placing her hand on the boy's shoulder.

 

“Is Dad coming with us?”

“No, Dad’s… just follow me.”

 

Mum and the kid left me, alone and invisible, with Dad. He stared silently into nothing, looking defeated. I'd always thought he'd slept in after that Santa act, and my parents were too cruel to get me anything that year. I thought they'd ruined Christmas, but now I know who was really to blame.

 

* * *

 

Back in the shed, and in the present time, the machine’s camouflage automatically deactivated — just in time to reveal me to my neighbour. I stared out at the large, white-bearded man.

He asked, “Want a sweetie?”

 

And then I told him everything, my eyes wet.

 

He said, “In the end, Daniel, it wasn’t your fault. Time travel, like life, is complicated. Loops happen. What’s important is that you found out how much your parents loved you.

"Now get out. I need to start my job. Otherwise, every child’s Christmas will be ruined. And give me back my coat!”

 

As I walked home, the darker memories of my childhood melted away, replaced by fresher ones that settled like snowflakes in my mind and heart.