When I arrived at the monitoring station at Aurora Ridge, the Northern Lights shimmered in the night sky, but faintly. The greens had paled, the violets had thinned, the yellows had whitened.

“Santa… something’s wrong,” Fixens, head of maintenance said, adjusting his goggles.

“I don’t like it,” Bernard added. “The pattern’s breaking.”

Quinten didn’t even glance up from his instruments. “Output is dropping. Steadily. We’ve lost nearly a third of the aurora’s brilliance.”

I watched the sky a long moment before speaking.

“We need to check the Aurora Wells,” I said quietly. “Something’s wrong. The intensity of the Northern Lights is fading.”

“Fading?!” Lyra yelped. “They don’t fade! They explode! They whoosh! They…”

“They’re fading,” Bernard repeated firmly.

Fixens tapped a gauge that flickered like a distant star. “The energy flow is being disrupted.”

“How?” I asked.

Quinten hesitated. “That’s the strange part. Can’t pinpoint the problem, we need to go down into the Wells and check them out.”

When we arrived at the bottom, the vast fountains of glowing magic rising from deep within the earth were magnificent, even in their weakened state.

The magic energy was flowing into pipes, jars, and floating lanterns, to be used to power Christmas, but at a much slower rate. Several of the elves moved quickly, trying to capture whatever energy they could, but the Wells were struggling.

Quentin put a finger to his lips. “Listen.”

When the group went silent, I nodded. “The pulse is uneven, too soft.”

“Pressure’s unstable,” Fixens muttered.

“The light is trying to rise but something is interfering,” Bernard said, watching the currents twist.

Lyra held up a lantern. “The Aurora Wells flicker, stop, and then struggle to continue, like someone’s blowing on it.

“It’s not the Wells,” I said, stepping closer.

They all turned to me.

“It’s the signal. We need to examine the power source.”

Once back on top at the monitoring station, all the elves gathered around me.

“The good deeds from humans have powered the Wells for centuries,” I explained. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Then why are they weakening?” Lyra asked.

“Because the good is being drowned out,” I replied.

The station fell silent.

Quinten blinked. “Drowned out by what?”

I met his gaze. “By the noise of the world. By anger spoken too loudly. By unkindness that spreads faster than kindness can be seen. By actions that ripple outward and overshadow the quiet good people do every day.”

Bernard’s expression darkened. “So, the kindness is still there, but it’s getting buried.”

Fixens tilted his head. “Like trying to hear a whisper in a thunderstorm.”

“Yes,” I said.

Lyra slumped into a chair. “That’s not fair. Random acts of kindness happen all the time.”

“So, what do we do?” Bernard asked.

“Build stronger collectors,” Quinten suggested.

“Filter out the noise,” Fixens added.

Lyra perked up. “Ooo! Create a ‘No Grumpy Allowed’ machine!”

I smiled faintly. “No, we don’t block the noise.”

“WHAT!” They yelled in unison.

“We quiet it,” I said firmly.

“Quiet the whole world?!” Lyra folded her arms and scowled. “I can’t see that happening.”

“Not silence,” I clarified. “Balance.”

Quinten’s eyes lit up. “Since we can’t control the commotion in the world, maybe we can find a way to amplify the good so it can rise above the clatter the world hears too often!”

Bernard nodded slowly. “Or we help the world notice the kindness going on around them.”

Fixens snapped his fingers. “We could make Echo Lanterns, small glowing orbs that don’t gather the magic of goodness, but reflect it. When placed in the world, they could shimmer near moments of kindness, making them just a little brighter, a little harder for everyone to miss.”

“Perfect!” Quinten punched the air with his fist as a grin covered his face. “We could even create Aurora Chimes. Soft, musical tones that would ring clearly, whenever goodness appears. Think of it as turning up the volume on kindness,” Quinten explained.

“And turning down the shouting,” Bernard added.

I stroked my beard. “Hmmm, interesting. Though the good often is drowned out, it never disappears. And when people choose to notice kindness, to echo it, to let it rise instead of being lost in the noise,” I shouted, “they help the Aurora Wells shine again.”

I clapped my hands and drew my elves towards me. “Time to get creative and make kindness glow brighter throughout the world. So, Quentin,” I added, turning in his direction, “let’s get started.”

Notes From Santa

I hope you enjoyed today’s story (#200). Stories are posted on the 1^st and 3^rd Saturday of each month, except December. Santa’s next story will be posted on Saturday June 6, 2026.  If you have any comments or if there is something you would like me to tell you about, please feel free to leave me a comment. Until the next time . . .

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