[WP] A man sits at home waiting for Santa. He has a gun and is looking to kill...

The first stabbing feeling of doubt invaded Alan’s mind when the tinkling penetrated the window to his right. It was an instantly recognizable tinkling, heard from hundreds of songs and movies and television specials: the tinkling of Santa’s sleigh. He’s real; I can’t believe that he is actually real. 
Months and months of planning had gone into this, Alan had figured everything out down to the tiniest details and was positive of Santa’s existence and yet… It was so difficult to accept the fact even when Alan was hearing definitive proof. Santa couldn’t be real. It was ridiculous. Santa was a childhood myth, a legend in the same vein as the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. No sane adult believed in these childish figures, yet Alan devoted months of his life on tracking this one down. 
I have to do this. I have no choice.
A slight thud came from the roof; a reindeer’s snort echoed down the chimney and filled the dark living room. A silenced cough, rustling, footsteps. Santa. The word kept repeating in Alan’s head like a stunned choir. Santa. Santa. Santa.
And then finally, the descent.
Santa came down the chimney in the same way a ninja might: silently, stealthy, a graceful landing. His hulking frame filled the large opening of the fireplace, and then he crouched down and came out.
When Alan first saw Santa in the dim light let off by the Christmas tree, he was shocked into compassion filled the room, and Alan started to become disgusted with what he was about to do. Ignore it, Alan ordered himself. It’s all a trick. Santa was nothing like he expected him to be. Instead of a fat white man in a red suit, Santa was athletic and tanned, wearing black attire that made him seem like a burglar; his face was partially hidden by a thick, black beard, and the sack slung over his shoulder was also black. Alan tightened his grip on the gun and almost shot him there—for a moment, Alan actually thought he was a burglar—but his grip relaxed when Alan noticed the aura that Santa gave off. A strong sensation of love and 
Santa broke the silence: “How are you resisting the spell?” If Santa was surprised that Alan had a gun trained on him he took great lengths to hide it. 
“I know about the time freeze,” Alan said. Santa nodded as though he expected it.
“Your child, you—“
“I adopted her because I knew you would come for a poor orphan child. Both her parents died in a terrible house fire, how could you not come?” Alan said. Santa nodded again
Alan leaned forward. “Have you seen the movie the Santa Clause?” he asked, the gun pointing dangerously in Santa’s direction. 
Santa shook his head. “You don’t want to do this. You don’t know the power that comes with this—“
“Well, in it,” Alan interrupted, “Tim Allen’s character accidently kills Santa Claus, and then his son convinces him to finish Santa’s job for him. After he’s done, he is told that because he killed Santa and finished the run, he is now Santa. A silly children movie. A myth. Just like Santa.”
“Alan,” Santa said, his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. “Things don’t really work like that. It’s much more difficult than it seems and someone could get hurt. Now, just put down the gun and we can disc—“ 
“No!” Alan yelled. “Stop trying to use your magic to…to…meddle with my mind! I know I have to do this. It’s time someone used the magic you have for good. To help people, not just give them gifts. I could make a difference; I could bring about world peace. Isn’t that worth one life?”
“If it were that easy, don’t you think that I would’ve accomplished that by now?” Santa asked, his eyes now burning with a fire. “My powers only reach so far. When I took up this job it was in the ‘60s, the Vietnam War was occurring and the world seemed a step away from total destruction. And you know what I did? I tried. I tried to use my powers to help heal the planet, but nothing came of it. Human malice is much stronger than charity or goodwill, and theirs is nothing I can do to change that.
I felt weak. I have almost unlimited magic yet I could do nothing to help the innocent children who would be impacted from the cruelty of adults. And then I had an idea. Innocent children grow into cruel adults; so I thought why not try to change that? Perhaps if I am able to teach them about goodwill and charity and peace the world would become more peaceful. I started to work extra hard to incorporate these values into the spirit of Christmas. Children needed to learn that there is more to Christmas than just gifts. 
I tried. I really did. But it’s pointless. People in general are unchangeably selfish and cruel, driven by their own sense of self-worth. Most children have no desire to learn of the good sides of human nature, they only see Christmas as a way to further immerse themselves in the material world and turn their backs to what really makes life worth living.
But fortunately there are exceptions. Take yourself, for example. You are a good man, Alan. You would risk your own life for the sake of the planet, for the sake of peace and love. Only a truly decent man would sacrifice themselves to better others. So come on, put down the gun and then we’ll talk.”
Alan felt his hand tremble at Santa’s words. I am a good man; I really am. But sometimes being a good man means you have to overlook the needs of one for the needs of many. 
“I’m sorry,” Alan said, tears in his eyes. “But I need to try.” 
He fired the gun.
/r/WritingPrompts Thread