Krampus Tale

   A few years ago, I wrote a story that I was going to submit for an anthology of Krampus tales.  The anthology had its fair share of cutsie, froo-froo stories, as well as gory, blood-soaked offerings, so they were looking for a happy medium, from outside of the box. I wrote the following story with those parameters in mind, and with the intention of submitting it, but having done all the work on my smartphone, I was unable to edit it in time for the deadline.


  So, after having it sit around, collecting dust, I've decided to post it here. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

The Visit

  "Papa, I still don't understand why we had to go to his funeral. He was just a terribly mean, old man," Stefan proclaimed shrugging off his heavy, wool coat, dusting the floor around him with snowflakes. "We were the only ones there! Why did we have to go?"

   Stefan was correct, of course, and his father, Tobias, would be hard pressed to produce an argument to the contrary. He took his son's coat and hung it on a peg by the front door, next to his wife's and his own. He then crossed the room with his long, heavy strides, leaving small clumps of packed snow in his wake, and poked at the fire in the hearth, bringing it back up to a respectable roar.  Stefan's mother, Claudia, sat on the edge of her bed, whispering soothing words to his fussy, infant sister, Annett.

   Stefan sat on his little stool and warmed himself by the fire as he watched his papa, waiting for a response. His father was a giant of a man, with chestnut eyes and matching hair. People would tell Stefan, all the time, that he "looks just like his papa".  He hoped that meant he would be as big and strong and handsome, when he grew up.  Tonight, however, his father's strong shoulders drooped a bit, as if under the weight of some invisible yoke.

   Tobias felt his son's eyes on him and resigned to the fact that he was not going to be able to dodge the boy's query.  He took his pipe from the mantle, packed it with fresh tobacco from his pouch, and lit it with a piece of kindling he had used to borrow some flame from the fireplace. After a few draws on the pipe, satisfied that he had a good burn going, he tossed the kindling into the fire, crossed the room to his chair (mussing Stefan's hair with his frying pan sized hand as he passed) and took his seat.  He began telling his son a tale that "took place long before you were born..."

***

  Nils was a young boy who lived in this very hamlet, with his small family. His father was a hard working woodsman, known to be fair and kind. His mother, a creature of beauty and grace, was loved by all. He also had an older brother, who was a bright, respectful lad who took after his papa.

  Nils was a störenfried.  Behind closed doors, some folks in the hamlet took to calling him "the gremlin" due to his mischievous ways.  He wasn't a mean spirited child, and his mother was always quick to point out that he meant no harm.  But, one of the poor woman's daily chores seemed to be to apologize to someone or another due to his antics.  He was very fortunate that she was well liked, and able to quell any issues with relative ease.

  Then, one dark evening in the middle of January, after a short, but savage battle with a bout of the flu, she was no more.

 Her passing made life more difficult for the whole family. Nils' father adjusted to life as a widower, but was far too busy supporting his two boys to go about town, smoothing out all the wrinkles caused by Nils' pranks. And his tomfoolery worsened. Small pranks gave way to grander mischief. A neighbor suffered a broken arm when Nils loosened a wheel on his cart.  A farmer took ill after falling into the icy water while trying to retrieve his livestock after Nils had opened the paddock.

  Some claimed, Nils acting out was his way of mourning. Others sensed it was because his mama wasn't around to make appeals on his behalf. Maybe, it was due to the fact that he was getting older, and able to be more mischievous.  No one really knew, perhaps it was the sum of all of these factors.  His untoward antics continued on through most of the year, until that fateful night on the eve of Saint Nicholas Day.

  The night was full of mirth and merriment, as everyone turned out to celebrate.  Music and stories and laughter filled the air around the bonfire.  At the height of the merrymaking, the sound of bells cut through the din of celebration like a sharp knife.

 The sound wasn't coming from any of the routes leading into town, but from the dense woods, nearby.  They weren't the cheery bells that were affixed to the horses which pulled carts and sleighs, they were low and ominous. A shriek and the pointing finger of a frightened girl revealed its source.

  The dark forest had birthed a figure that slowly, but determinedly approached the gathering around the bonfire.   Roughly the size of a man, its body was covered with dark, mangy hair.  It had the head of a goat, but with sharp teeth that gleamed in the firelight.  Rusted chains with large, heavy bells attached to them, hung all over its frame and a decrepit wicker basket was slung across its back.

  The creature stitched its way through the crowd, upon cloven hoof, sniffing and snuffling the whole time. Its warm breath curled into the cold night air from its nostrils like smoke, enhancing its demonic appearance.  Having reached its quarry, it came to a stop before Nils.  It stared at him with hungry eyes, its tongue hung from its mouth, glistening with saliva. It pointed a filthy, twisted finger at the boy.

  "Please don't eat me.”, Nils cried, "Don't sup on my bones!" The boy was near tears as he plaintively searched for help. Seeing no aid coming his way, he racked his brain for a way out of his predicament. He calmed as a solution formed. A grin slid across his lips as he approached the creature. 

He addressed the devil, "Wait! Allow me to wager a bet with you. And, if I win, you won't eat me. Deal?"

  The beast stood there for a few moments, eyeing the boy, then slowly nodded its shaggy, horned head.  Nearby, a large evergreen, adorned with candles, and apples and bows, towered over the bonfire.

Nils gestured toward it.  "I'll bet you that I can jump higher than that tree."  And, without waiting for a response, he took a small hop. 

Nils bounded around the creature like a jackanapes.  "The tree cannot jump!  I've beaten you! You can't kill me, you can't eat me!" He stuck his tongue out at the thing before him.

  The creature regarded the boy, twisting its head to the side as the child danced.  Its toothy mouth was designed to rend and chew, and it did so to the words it spoke.  "I will not kill you," it said, in a low, guttural voice.  "I will not strip flesh."  It paused between statements, as if it took a great degree of deliberation to speak. "I let you live, but I still get child."

  The crowd stood agog, as they pondered the monster's statement.  Even Nils paused in his celebrating as the words echoed in his head.  The beast wound a chain around his hand, and raised his arm.  With his other hand, he slowly tapped the bell three times.  With each tap, the bell rang deeper and resonated longer.  As the last note faded, a small click sounded behind his head and leather straps squeaked in protest as the lid on the wicker basket flew open.

  A cacophony of disembodied voices shrieking in misery and sorrow streamed from the opening. Crying and wailing, begging and pleading and promises of good behavior filled the air.  The village fixated on the demon before them, completely unaware of the change taking place with Nils.

  When their attention returned to the boy, women gasped and the men pulled their children closer.  Before them stood Nils but he was no longer alone. Beside him, his ghost-like twin, stark terror flashing in its eyes, pleaded wordlessly. The twin undulated and began drifting toward the basket, screaming silently, blue-silver tears streaming down his cheeks.  Nils clawed at the air desperately, in a vain attempt to reclaim it, but the twin reached the edge of the basket, and was quickly sucked in.  The lid snapped shut, the hasp clicked closed, and the wailing of the children ceased.  

"Deal is deal," the beast growled.

  Its business concluded, the creature set off in the direction came from.  Spinning abruptly toward a boy whose complexion immediately went pallid, it thrust a large lump of coal into his trembling, mittened hands, then proceeded on its way.  The crowd watched breathlessly as the living nightmare retreated from the firelight and melted back into the woods.

Nils stood, silent, a single tear rolling down his face. He stared in the direction where the creature disappeared, for a long while.  Eventually, listlessly, he returned to his cottage, saying nothing to anyone along the way.

***

 “…From that night, Nils never smiled or laughed.  Never sang, or whistled or hummed.  Never played, or danced.  And, every year that passed, he seemed to age five.  He became a miserable, old man. He had no friends, took no wife.  He cursed at children and kicked at dogs.  And then, he died alone.”

His story told, Tobias rose to his feet, emptied the bowl of his pipe into the ash bucket, then returned it to its place on the mantle.

”But, papa, you never answered my question. Why did we have to go?” Stefan scratched his head and rubbed the back of his neck.  

Tobias glanced over at the bin near the fireplace, brimming with wood.  "That will never get us through the night,” he said unconvincingly. Before his son could disagree, Tobias’ shuddering frame filled the doorway and was quickly swallowed by the evening.

 ​Claudia placed Annett in her bassinet, before joining Stefan by the fire.  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his forehead.  "We had to go because he was your uncle. Nils was your papa's little brother."