[ WP ] It 's cute when your kid sends Santa a letter . It 's surprising when Santa sends a letter back . It 's worrying when the two become regular pen pals . And it 's horrifying when you start reading the letters yourself ...

It started when he was six, and he had written Santa a letter. I do n't know how this stranger got it, but for awhile he pretended he was Santa. He kept my son's dream alive, for awhile. Since I did n't live with him, I could n't be the cautious mother hen I wanted to be. 
 
 `` Santa'' and my son would write back to each other. My son never let me read his letters because he said they were private. My son talked about a land made of marshmallow that `` Santa'' called Heaven. I blew this off, because Santa is originally Saint Nicholas... but this guy is more than just pretending to be Santa. In his mind, he *was* Santa. 
 
 Tommy kept writing to Santa his dreams and fantasies. Mentally-ill Santa lived in them with him, where he would relate Tommy's world with evangelical stuff. This man, this corrupt man, was planting a religious seed in my son's mind. Now, I have nothing against religion, but this was a bad seed. Guessing from Tommy's newfound knowledge, Santa misconstrued ( in my opinion ) God's words and made my son into a hateful Christian. 
 
 > Can there ever be a `` hateful'' Christian? No, I would say to myself. Hypocritical, maybe. But a Christian spreads love and acceptance, not reasons to hate people or automatically place them in Hell. This is exactly what `` Santa'' was doing to my boy. If he want's to be religious, he can go with Grandma. But if he wants to push these thoughts like a cop pushes the law, I had a problem with it. 
 
 The few days ( Fridays through Sundays ) I had Tommy, he would show a new strange characteristic. One Saturday he's drawing a cross on fire with angels around it, the next Friday he yelled that we needed to say grace or we would go to Hell, and at one point he told me that us white people were the `` divine race'' ( in `` Santa's'' words ). All of this worried me, and of course none of it worried his other father. 
 
 One day when I picked up Tommy at his father's house, he brought his backpack. He said he needed to finish writing his letter to `` Santa,'' and I saw this as the perfect opportunity to see what their conversations are like. So, in the light of the midnight moon, I did some digging. 
 
 > Dear Mr. Santa, 
 > 
 > I had a good week again. I love the new candy you put in the envelope last time. Can you send that one again? I prayed for everyone who I thought was going to hell again like you said. When will I see you again? It was fun playing hide and seek at the playground. Sorry my dad made me leave before I found you. Do you forgive me Mr. Santa? I do n't want to go to Hell. It is scary. I want to go to marshmallow land with you. 
 
 That's all I could stomach. I could n't bother reading the rest of the letter. I immediately called 911, and when Tommy woke up I told him the police had a few questions for him. He answered them, but only if we put out incentives. 
 
 Sadly, the police never could find `` Santa.'' He never left a trace of DNA, and nobody in the neighborhood seemed to recognize the man the police had sketched out that were based on Tommy's characteristics. 
 
 Years later, Tommy left this ideology. Without `` Santa'' influencing him, he eventually forgot about it all. But one Christmas, when Tommy was with his father, I got a letter. This letter was left at my door with no return address and no stamp. This envelope was hand-delivered by Santa himself. 
 
 > Dear Tommy's Mom, 
 > 
 > I know you're the bitch who called the cops on me. Well guess what, they never got me! The other day I saw Tommy with some man, but he looked right past me! As if he did n't know who I was! I may not be Santa to him anymore, but there are other stupid children who praise me out in this city. All of them worship me, and soon enough we will all run away. What a shame, Tommy could have been here with me. Tell him I'm still hiding at our secret spot. Call the cops one more time, and Tommy may soon visit the North Pole with me. Or even Marshmallow Land. Ha ha. 
 
 I did n't know what to do, so I did nothing. I was selfish, I know, but I couldnt' bear the thought of Tommy being abducted. I just could n't. I was and still am a coward. All I can hope is that Tommy forgot his face and his voice. I pray every night to Someone-I-Don't-Know for forgiveness. For relief. For a safe place. For those other children and their parents. 
 
 
 > I saw his face on the TV and that's when it all came back to me. `` Santa?'' I would think to myself. He was the one who played with me, and gave me swiss chocolate. Under his photo was some name I've never heard before. `` Who's Rod?'' The news anchor said he was arrested after many years of searching for kidnapping a kid a few years ago. Supposedly he took another little kid, and before he could runaway with them he was caught. 
 > 
 > I sort of felt sad, mad and confused. `` This was a good guy! Why would he ever do the things the tv says he did!?'' All this swirl of emotions left my chest feeling heavy. I turned off the tv and went to bed. `` It's just a dream. It's just a dream.''
