Yes, Virginia, there is an Elf in Florida

A young girl named Sparrow crept through the quack grass until she reached the tallest tree in her yard, a Norfolk pine with emerald limbs attached to the tree like perfectly combed mustaches. Sparrow stopped by the tree trunk and knocked, placing a box in front of a tiny hidden door. She stuck out her tongue, fiddling with the shiny red bow taped to the top. “Perfect. This gift is for you, Mr. Elf,” she stated with conviction, rising to her feet and rubbing her snotty nose before turning and shuffling back towards her house.

Inside the tree, an elf the size of a stick of butter leaned a pointy ear against the small door, opening it to peer outside. The elf watched the human girl’s pigtails wiggle as she walked most peculiarly, like a penguin. But there were no penguins in Florida and not many elves.

The elf opened the gift when the girl slipped into her house, finding two walnuts the same size as his hands. Martin the elf removed his green cap and scratched his head. His mission was to give gifts, not receive them, and he wasn’t the kind of elf to change his life’s purpose now. Martin stepped outside and looked up into the branches of the towering Norfolk, grabbed the walnuts, and touched his nose. Instantly, he was gone.

Now, Martin sat twenty feet high on a branch. “Excuse me, Ms. Bark Beetle, I’m your neighbor, Martin. Would you like my walnuts?”

“Oh, no. Yuck,” said the beetle.

Martin frowned, then raised his eyebrows, waving at a Mockingbird. But the bird flew away in a flash of song. This time, Martin touched his green boot, finding himself at the top of the tree, surveying the lush mangroves littering the bay and the majestic royal palms scattered below. Martin wasn’t alone; a serious-looking osprey clung to the precipice of the Norfolk. Martin held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Martin the elf. Would you like these walnuts, you know, for a Christmas gift?”

“No,” said the osprey. The bird glowered at Martin, adding, “I only eat fish.”

Martin furrowed his brows and touched his right ear lobe’s soft, spongy part. Pop! Martin found himself halfway down the tree, clinging to the bristly bark of the tree trunk. “Sir. Mr. Pine Weevil, would you like these nuts?” asked Martin with a quivering voice.

“Don’t be silly. Those nuts wouldn’t fit inside my tiny mouth,” replied the bug.

Gingerly, Martin pulled up his shirt and touched his belly button, vanishing again. Now, Martin clung to a limb, staring into the beady eyes of a fluffy gray squirrel. Martin smiled, holding out his sweaty hand. The squirrel inched closer, ruffling needles in his wake. “Are those for me? Oh, thank you so much,” said the squirrel with a whisker twitch.

Martin puffed his chest. “Merry Christmas!” 

The End