Nick rolled over in bed, checked his phone, and sighed. No messages, no notifications except for some new Youtube videos, nothing, just like every day for the last month, unless it was a message from work asking him to fill in for someone. It had been the same for the whole month after his epic breakup with his girlfriend, and since all his friends had been hers first, he had been thrown out without a second thought. His parents were too busy touring the world to do more than check up on him occasionally to make sure he was still alive. Even his old friends were busy in college, working or travelling to even remember him.

Lying back he wondered if anyone would miss him if he just vanished.

“God, I wish something would change,” he said to the water stained ceiling.

Getting up he had a quick shower to rinse the stink off, grabbed a breakfast burrito to eat on the go and headed out for his craptastic night job at the local convenience store. The street was dark and his old winter coat was barely keeping out the early November cold as he hurried along, hoping that by moving quickly it would keep him from freezing to death. The local bums and criminals ignored him, everyone knew he was broke and barely able to afford the moldy, run down one room apartment that he laughably called home.

Getting to his job, he signed in, replaced Agatha, the bitter old lady who smelled of cats and nicotine, and got ready for a long night of selling scratch tickets, cigarettes, munchies and cheap alcohol, while trying to keep the local addicts and loonies from taking a dump in the aisles.

Getting a mop, he began cleaning the filthy floor, trying to make the stained and chipped tiles look a little cleaner. It was a lost cause, the black streaks of shoes and dirt covered everything. Then there was the delightful faint red stain which might have been paint, or nail polish, or blood, that would never come out, and a brown smear he hoped was just some mud that had been ground into the cracked tiles.

Nick realized the floor was a lot like his life, stained, broken, and beyond repair. Only ripping everything out and replacing it all would make it better. Or better yet, light the whole thing on fire and dance in the ashes.

Leaning on the old mop, Nick wondered why he even kept trying.

The mechanical ding of the door brought him momentarily out of his angst. Walking back behind the counter, he turned to look at the customer and was confused when he didn't see anyone. Then he looked down and for the first time in a month he smiled.

“Isn't it a little early for Christmas kid?” he asked the little kid, who couldn't even look over the counter was dressed like one of Santa's elves. The kid, who could be a boy or a girl, had the pointy green hat with a bell on the end, pointy green shoes, green and red tights, and a green coat with white fur trim.

The kid looked up, and Nick was thrown a little by the face. It wasn't a child's face, but it also wasn't an adult face, it was right in the deep uncanny valley, with eyes a bit too large, an upturned nose that was a little too pointed, cheekbones and a jaw that were a bit too sharp and delicate. In a cartoon, the person would be a perfect elf singing happily in the North Pole. In real life, late at night and all alone... Nick really hoped someone was about to jump out and shout surprise.

“Hi,” the... elf said in a high pitched voice that was just on the edge of masculine, “you're Nicholas Christopher Hall, right?”

Nick's heart jumped. How did this weirdo know his name. “Yes,” he said, trying to look around without taking his eyes off of the person. Realistically he knew he shouldn't be afraid, if the elf tried anything it would be easy enough to stomp him into the ground, but everything had an unreal feeling to it.

“Oh holly jolly good!” the elf cheered. “And did you wish that, and I quote, 'something would change'?”

“How did you know that?” Nick asked backing away from the creature. No one could have heard him in his room.

“I work with Santa, we know when you're sleeping, when you're awake, when you've been bad or good, and when you make a wish. And you're in luck, we need a new elf. Since you made a wish for something new, you're perfect for the job,” the elf said, jumping up onto the counter in a single bound.

Never a fighter, Nick went with his first instinct, turning and running as fast as he could. He didn't get more than two steps when a glittering powder surrounded him, stopping him in his tracks. His arms were raised, he was leaning forward on one foot, his other foot in the air, and he was paralyzed. By all rights he should have fallen flat on his face, but it felt like the very air had hardened, holding him upright.

“Huh, most people love to hear that they'll get to go to the North Pole and see Santa. Especially when their lives are as miserable as yours is.” The elf walked in front of Nick, looking him up and down like a hunter examining his prey. “I think you'll be perfect. Old enough to know how to do an honest day's work, no family to really worry about, but not so jaded by life you have given up completely or become a bad boy. Getting a girl would have been a bit better, but that's not a big deal. I know you'll do quite nicely once you get settled.”

If he could have moved anything other than his lungs, Nick would have argued. His life sucked, but he didn't want to give it up, it was salvageable. And the thought of being kidnapped by an insane elf who thought Santa was real was the last thing he wanted.
Unfortunately for him he didn't seem to have a say in things. The elf pulled an impossibly large bag from his coat pocket and swung it over Nick's head.

In a moment he was enveloped by the heavy bag that felt like leather, then there was just blackness and the sense of falling.