The Spirit of Krampus--Illustrated Read online

  The Spirit

  of Krampus

  by

  Kate Danley

  Illustrated by

  Abigail Larson

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

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  ONE

  The wind howled down the street and swept the dry, fallen leaves through the gutter. The town’s single stoplight flashed yellow for the cars that would never come. With no one left to run the power plants, the city's one time investment in utility solar panels now provided the only glimpses of electricity.

  A few houses were lit with flickering candlelight, their shade-drawn windows creating the false warmth of home and hearth against a cold afternoon sky.

  Two boys walked down the street, their breath making white clouds with every exhalation.

  “Santa coming tonight, Bo?” asked the younger one. He had a shock of sandy brown hair and a spray of freckles across his chapped nose. He used his sleeve to wipe away a stream of snot as he looked up at his big brother, his eyes filled with adoration and hero worship. When their parents went mad, when he and Bo were placed in that foster home, when they had to run away, Bo was the one who took care of them. Bo was the one who made sure they were okay.

  “No such thing as Santa Claus, Skip,” Bo replied, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. Bo's hair was darker and curlier than Skip's and his face was hard in a way that a kid's shouldn't be at thirteen. “Nuthin’ but another night.”

  “But I remember this story...” Skip began.

  “Nuthin’ but a story. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”

  Skip fell silent and trudged along beside his brother, his eight-year old legs going double time to match Bo's strides. He looked up at the glowing windows and whispered, “Maybe here’s some nice ones inside. Maybe these ones have some food or something...”

  “You know they're nuthin’ but traps."

  "But maybe it's different here."

  Bo grabbed Skip’s arm. “You've seen what they do. If you ever go up there...”

  At that moment, a curtain parted and then closed again. The door opened and a woman stepped out onto her porch. She waved a hand at them and shouted, “Hello! Hello there!”

  “Keep walking,” Bo hissed at his brother.

  “You boys doing okay? Brrr! It’s so cold out here! Why don’t you come in and warm yourself a spell?”

  Skip slowed down, his heart filled with secret longing. The woman's dress was red and polka-dot, just like the pictures in that book about Santa Claus. Sure, her face was dirty and her curly hair looked kind of like it hadn't really been brushed, but she was holding a plate of cookies that were sparkly and green with squiggly white decorations.

  “Aren’t you hungry? Why don’t you come on up and have a cookie!" she called. "They're fresh out of the oven! Made them special for Christmas Eve!”

  “Bo, she has cookies...” said Skip.

  Bo shook his head and warned, “She’s lying. She wants to put you in her oven. Keep walking.”

  Skip trotted to catch up with his brother.

  “Those cookies’ll turn to ash in your mouth and into worms and slugs. They'll make you sick and you'll fall under her spell,” Bo continued, making sure that Skip was listening. “You gotta promise me, Skip. You gotta promise me that if I'm ever not around you'll never talk to people like her. Don’t talk to her. Don't look at her. You can’t trust the grownups. Not anymore.”

  They walked on in silence as the woman called out after them, pleading for them to come back.

  Skip tried to remember what it was like before they started looking for other kids. The memories were fading. Everyday seemed like the one before - just putting one foot in front of the other. They slept in the woods and got food wherever they could find it - in empty restaurants, abandoned grocery stores, overgrown gardens... At first, there were a lot of boys and girls their age, but one after another, they went into those houses with the friendly looking grownups and none of them ever came out again.

  From far behind, there was a scream like a roaring lion who ran her nails across glass.

  “Told you she was no good,” said Bo.

  Skip gulped. “Thanks, Bo."

  He tripped a little as he looked back wistfully.

  “Tell me a story, Bo...” Skip asked.

  Bo blew out his breath and watched the smoke rise like a cloud. “What do you want a story about?”

  “Tell me the story about how the grownups used to be different.”

  “Again?”

  “It’s my favorite!” Skip begged.

  Bo looked like he was thinking it over, but Skip knew better. He knew his brother would tell him the story. He liked to remember as much as Skip liked to hear about it.

  “Come on...”

  Bo dragged out the suspense. It was a game, but the only game they had left.

  “Okay, but this is the last time,” said Bo, though Skip knew that wasn't true.

  “The last time, I promise,” said Skip, though they knew that wasn't true, either.

  “Once upon a time..."

  "Which was just last Christmas!"

  "Right, last Christmas. Once upon a time, which was about a year ago, the grown-ups were nice. They were like us, only bigger. They laughed and told jokes and kids didn’t have to worry about food or being eaten or nuthin’.”

  “And then what happened?”

  “Am I telling the story or not?”

  “Sorry, Bo.”

  “Okay, so on Christmas Eve, something happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was like they all went crazy. They stopped worrying about being good and it was like all the sudden all they cared about was who could be the meanest. And then something snapped and kids like you and me, they started disappearing. Just gone. We used to go to school then, remember?”

  “I forget.... what was that like?”

  Bo shrugged. “It was nice. They gave you juice and read you stories and sometimes you could draw pictures and stuff.”

  "You used to like drawing pictures?"

  "Yeah. I liked it a lot."

  “We can still draw pictures,” said Skip.

  "With what?”

  "Maybe if we ever find some markers...”

  Bo picked up a rock and saw how far he could throw it. "Sure, Skip. If we ever get some markers that work, we'll draw all day."

  "If there was such thing as Santa, we could ask him to bring us some markers."

  "Ain't no such thing as Santa."

  "I know."

  Bo continued his story, “So pretty soon the grown-ups weren't nice anymore and it’s like what you see in that house. They seem like they care, but any kid who goes in disappears. You can’t trust 'em.”

  Skip nodded.

  “But now you and me are a team. As long as we stay to the middle of the road, they can’t come out and get us. As long as you don’t ever go inside, we're safe.”

  Skip looked along the deserted street. “You figure we’re the last kids on earth?”

  “Yeah,” replied Bo. “I ain’t never seen anyone like us for a long time.”

  “And we can’t ever let the grownups get us."

  “Do you remember what’ll happen if they get us?”

  “They’ll put us in a bag and beat us with a stick and then take us home and eat us for supper.”

  Bo nodded and put his arm around Skip. He gave him a little hug. “But I�
��ll never let that happened."

  The wind began to blow.

  “Never let what happen?” asked a voice.

  Skip and Bo looked over. In one of the yards, far off the porch and away from the house, was a strange creature. He looked almost like a goat, except he walked on two legs. He was as tall as a grownup, but he was covered in white fur with black tips. He had horns upon his head, his face was long, and his teeth were sharp. Over his shoulder, he carried a black sack and in his hand he carried a bundle of golden switches.

  “Don’t pay him no mind, Skip,” said Bo. “Just keep on walking. He can't get us.”

  The creature gave him a knowing look and then jumped over the fence, bounded across the sidewalk, and landed in the middle of the road right in front of them.

  Bo put his hand on Skip's shoulder and they both froze. Skip knew his big brother could take care of them. He knew his brother would never be scared, so he stood quiet, ready to run whenever Bo told him.

  "I hear you have been very naughty," said the creature.

  "Not us," said Bo.

  The creature tilted his head and his mouth broke into something that appeared to be a smile. Bo did not smile back.

  "I heard that nice grownup tell you to come in her house and you disobeyed," he said to Bo. "You even forced that child... I believe you called him 'Skip'... that boy who stands beside you... you forced him to disobey her. And now you are lying to me about being good. I find you very, very naughty, indeed."

  Bo stuck out his chin. “I'm almost a man. I don't follow grown up rules like some kid."

  The creature shook his head. “If you were a man, you would be indoors, unable to come out except for Christmas Eve. But here you are. You must be even naughtier then I thought."

  Bo turned to his brother, his eyes never leaving the creature. "Run..."

  The creature threw his bag to the ground and opened up the mouth. The sound that emerged was a roar. "GET IN MY SACK, YOU NAUGHTY BOY!"

  A great vortex erupted from inside. It moved like a tornado and wrapped around Bo’s body, yanking him towards the bag. Skip threw his arms around his brother and hung on, even as Bo's feet lifted from the ground.

  "Go get help, Skip!" Bo shouted, the wind carrying away his words.

  Bo began to slip and Skip grabbed to catch his arms, and then clutched at his hands as he continued to slide.

  "I won't let you go!" Skip cried, choking as tears closed his throat.

  Bo shook his head, showing fear for the first time Skip had ever seen, and screamed, "Get help! RUN!"

  And Bo was torn away.

  In an instant, he was sucked into the bag.

  Skip did not look back as he ran, ran and wondered where in the world he could go to get help when he was all alone in the world.

  TWO

  The home was burrowed into the side of an overgrown gulch. It looked different than any other building he had ever seen. Skip would have raced right by if it wasn't for the red and white striped pole standing like a marker by the road. Next to the pole was a narrow dirt path leading down the steep gully, through a sea of fern and ivy, to a small, round front door.

  Skip slowed to a stop. Hesitantly, he wandered back, wondering if this different looking house might have a different sort of person living inside. Bo would have known what to do, he thought, Bo would have known if it was safe.

  Skip rested his hand upon the pole. It seemed to warm against his palm. It made him feel a little better, kind of like when Bo would put his arms around his shoulders and tell him he was brave.

  He needed to be brave for Bo, he decided.

  He forced one foot forward. And then the other. And then another until he was walking down to the building, sliding a little on the slope as he went. He raced to the door before he could change his mind and pounded his fists upon it in time to the pounding of his heart.

  A little pointed hat and little pointed ears appeared in the window, then a curly mop of red hair and a small set of beady eyes. Those eyes got bigger when they saw who was standing outside. He disappeared and the door opened to reveal a pie-faced man not even as tall as Skip’s shoulder. He wore red tights and a red tunic with green tips on all the edges.

  "Are you naughty or nice?" the little man squeaked.

  "Nice...?" said Skip.

  "You sure?"

  Skip nodded hesitantly.

  “Come in!” he waved.

  Skip didn't move. Instead he asked, “Are you a grown up?”

  “No, of course not!” said the little man. “Now get inside before anyone sees you.”

  “Please, sir... my brother...” said Skip, pointing back to where his brother was taken.

  The little man pulled him over the threshold, panic in his voice. “We’ll talk inside.”

  The house seemed much bigger than the hill. Everything was carved out of honey-colored wood.

  Big fluffy couches and chairs covered in red and green plaid sat next to a crackling fire in the fireplace. The air smelled of something that made Skip’s mouth water.

  “You must be hungry,” said the little man, darting around the room like a bird. He held up a plate. “Here, would you like a cookie?”

  The plate was filled with gingerbread men decorated with green and white frosting. Skip's breath caught in his throat and wildly he looked for a way out.

  “Wait! Wait!” said the man, putting down the tray and holding up his hands in peace. “I forgot. I forgot that is how they try to lure you in. I’m sorry! There’s not many of you left and I forgot myself! It used to be that you could offer a child a cookie and it was a kindness...”

  The man stopped himself and looked like he was trying to gather his thoughts.

  "My name is Herbie." The little man pointed at himself. “I’m an elf.”

  Skip gulped. "My brother Bo says there's no such thing as elves."

  "Oh my," said Herbie, distraught. He sat down on a stool by the fire as if someone had punched him in the stomach. "No such thing as elves... I wonder what I am? No wonder everything when so wrong... to have been lied to... even by my own mother! She said I was an elf. And now to learn that your brother thinks even she was deceiving me..."

  "Maybe my brother was wrong," offered Skip, feeling bad.

  "Oh, I'm sure he knows the world much better than me. You believe him. Even more than what you see in front of your very eyes. That must mean I am all mixed up." Herbie looked up. “What's your name?"

  "Skip."

  "And since I am so wrong about so many things, what are you?"

  Skip shifted awkwardly. “I'm a boy. Just a... boy."

  "Oh!" said Herbie. "I used to build toys for good boys. And good girls, too. Only, there aren’t many children left. So now I don't.”

  Skip pointed to the door, begging. “Herbie, my brother is in trouble.”

  “Step away from the window where terrible things might be watching!” said Herbie, grabbing Skip and hauling him over to the couch.

  He pushed Skip into the cushions and tucked a fuzzy blanket around his legs. Herbie sat back on his stool and rested his chin on his hands. “Now, tell me what kind of trouble."

  Skip didn't know what to make of the elf. He seemed absentminded and blinked too much, but he also seemed kind. Skip stroked the blanket. He didn't have anyone else to turn to. “There was a big shaggy creature with horns and he sucked my brother up and put him in his sack.”

  Herbie became very still. He shook his head with a faraway look and whispered, “Krampus.”

  “What’s 'Krampus'?”

  "Krampus is a 'who', not a 'what'," said Herbie. “And he's been out of control ever since Santa disappeared."

  "Santa disappeared?" asked Skip. "But my brother says Santa doesn’t—-"

  Herbie gave him a horrified look. Skip bit back his words. Instead he asked, "How?"

  Herbie picked up a cookie, chewing as he remembered. “I was away from the North Pole. I was here, to keep track of how the boys and girls were behaving, when
Santa disappeared... when I became stranded... if Santa were still alive, he would have come to get me... I am sure... instead, I'm here..."

  Herbie's voice trailed off and for a minute, Skip though the elf might cry, but then he continued, "With no one to keep the naughty and nice list, I heard Krampus took it upon himself decide who was which. It was right about the same time that all the grown-ups went plum crazy. Seemed like they were almost working to make their children misbehave, working to get them on that naughty list. And then they started putting kids in bags, any kids they could find. It was like the spirit of Christmas got replaced by the spirit of Krampus."

  "Is that what Krampus does?" asked Skip.

  "Back in the day, he used to ride with St. Nicholas... That's what people used to call Santa... St. Nicholas would give gifts to the good boys and girls. But if you were wicked, Krampus would come and put you in his sack and beat you with his sticks and then take you home to eat for his Christmas dinner.”

  Skip whispered, “Is he going to eat Bo?”

  Herbie didn't answer.

  “Please, Herbie," he begged, "If Krampus got my brother...”

  "If Krampus got your brother, your brother is in terrible danger," said Herbie.

  "Will you help me get him back?" asked Skip.

  Herbie seemed very small at that moment, even smaller and more scared that Skip felt. "There's no getting him back. I know Krampus. I saw him every Christmas.

  It is best to forget about your brother and move on with your life."

  Skip wanted Herbie to fix everything. He wanted someone to come along and make it all better. He wanted to be walking along the road with his big brother and for everyone to stay in their yards.

  But that wasn't real. It was just wishes.

  Skip looked at the plate of cookies, at the kindness the little elf had tried to extend to him.

  His brother had been wrong about elves, he thought. Maybe he was wrong about Christmas, too.

  "What if saving my brother is my Christmas wish?" asked Skip.

  "There is no one who can make your wish come true anymore," said Herbie. "No one can stop Krampus except Santa and he's gone."

  Herbie stopped himself. He became thoughtful.