Santa and the Applewood Gift

High in Iceland the shimmering auroras, Santa was working late into the evening in his quiet workshop. This year, he wasn’t just making toys. He was crafting something special—something full of ancient magic.

At the heart of his workbench lay a smooth piece of apple wood, polished to a soft glow. It had been taken from an old tree that stood in the middle of a sunlit orchard, where children once laughed and danced in the springtime. This apple wood was different. It still held the joy of those dances, the warmth of those sunny days, and the promise of kindness. And Santa was shaping it into a toy for a very good girl—a girl who had danced with such happiness and hope that even the stars seemed to twinkle in time with her feet.

As he carved, Santa whispered old words into the wood. Words of joy, of gratitude, of life. With every turn of his knife, the toy seemed to take on a life of its own. It was a dancer, too—a small wooden figure that would twirl whenever music played, even the softest song from a bird or a breeze. But it wasn’t just a toy. It was a charm of blessing.

And this was only the beginning.

Santa had a bigger plan that year. He had seen the children of the world, many with empty bellies, many wishing only for a simple meal. So, as he carved the apple wood toy, he planted a magic deep inside it. From this single gift, the magic would spread.

All over the world, apple trees would blossom in places they never had before—in city streets, quiet villages, and wild mountainsides. The trees would grow quickly, heavy with fruit sweet enough to feed every hungry child, every hungry soul. No one would go without. The food would be free, and the trees would never wither.

When the girl received her wooden dancer on Christmas morning, she smiled and gave it a spin. As it turned in her hand, something gentle passed through the air like a breeze before spring rain. Far away, in places she’d never seen, little green shoots broke through the earth. And soon after, apples began to grow.

Santa smiled, sitting by his fire, knowing the world was a little brighter because of one girl’s dancing joy—and an old piece of apple wood shaped by love.

Want to add more magic to this, or maybe tell the story from the girl’s point of view?