I was sitting in the car with my best friend, Michael, and we were listening to “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” by Andy Williams on Christmas Eve. We were on the way to my house, listening to this amazing Christmas song when, next thing I know, the radio cuts out and all we can hear is this horrible static. I reached forward to fiddle with the radio and it came back to the radio station host talking about something random.

“It’s horrible, people!” he said with exaggerated false fear. 

“What’s he on about?” asked Michael. 

“I have no idea. Maybe he’ll get to the point soon,” I said with a confused expression plastered on my face.

“Of course, I’m referring to the Abominable Snowman!” stated the radio host as if it were obvious the entire time.

“For a moment, I thought he was referring to Krampus,” I said to Michael, trying to imitate the mock horror in the radio host’s voice.

“Who the Hell is Krampus?” he asked.

“Oh, just the most horrific, terrifying monster imaginable!” I told him, a laugh at my own stupidity starting to seep into my voice. 

“Haha. Seriously, who is he?” Michael asked, clearly unamused by my playful banter.

I then explained, “Krampus comes from German folklore. He is basically a half-goat, half-humanoid being with sharp horns and a freaky-long tongue. He is also the offspring of Hel, the goddess of death in Norse mythology. Krampus comes to punish naughty children in various ways, depending on the severity of their so-called crimes. He will either beat them, eat them, or take them to Hell to torture them.”

“Woah, that’s intense,” he responded, shocked that I knew so much about the subject. “You really are a walking encyclopedia,” he said facetiously.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty much a bestiary too. A bestiary is a book that contains monsters and information about them, by the way,” I told him matter-of-factly.

“Cool,” he replied.

We then rode in silence until we got to my house and I let myself in and told him the standard goodbyes that are common among teen boys. No one was home, so I had the place to myself. I was all alone. I don’t really mind it--being by my lonesome. In fact, I would even go so far as to say that I enjoy the isolation. People call me weird because of this introvertedness, but I think that they are simply afraid of being left in desolation while I’m able to bask in it. I could sit by the window with a book for hours upon hours with nothing but the whistling of the wind to keep me company.

Unfortunately, my blissful reverie was broken by a loud bang on the window. I swear, I nearly lept out of my skin. Then I realized it was just Michael.

“What the hell?!” I shouted through the window, frustrated that he made me lose my place on the page.

“The door was locked,” he said, laughing at my reaction to his stupid jumpscare.

“So? Send a text! Call me!” I hollered, becoming further infuriated

“Who’d you think it was? Krampus?” He asked, carrying on with his annoying laughter as I let him inside the house.

“No, of course not. Quit being stupid,” I said with exasperation plain in my voice. “What did you need, anyway?” I asked him.

“ I wanted to ask if I could hang out with you…and maybe even spend the night?” Michael said with hope creeping into his voice as it raised in pitch.

“On Christmas Eve?” I asked incredulously. 

“Yeah, my parents said they don’t care as long as I come home in the morning,” he replied casually.

“I mean, I’ll have to ask my parents, but I guess that you can,” I said.

I wanted to tell him no, but at the same time, I also kind of wanted a companion tonight as there was supposed to be a snowstorm and I disliked being alone when they occurred. Especially, since my parents weren’t supposed to be home until the morning. We were all alone. I walked into the kitchen to grab a snack and asked Michael if he wanted anything.

“Hey, you want anything?” I shouted from my spot in front of the fridge.

“Nah, I just ate,” he hollered back from the living room.

“Alrighty then,” I replied.

I opened the fridge and found that it was nearly empty, with only a jar of pickles and some jelly.

Guess I’ll have to look in the pantry, I thought to myself.

I opened the pantry door and found that there were only a few slices of bread left, about enough for two sandwiches. 

I forgot about the snacks and decided to watch some TV. Michael and I decided to watch Jeopardy until we both eventually drifted off to a restless slumber.

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night. I lifted my head groggily and went to check my phone for the time. I lifted my phone from my lap and the screen instantly came to life. The clock said that it was three in the morning.

The Devil’s hour, was my first thought. No, It’s Christmas Eve! The Devil has no place here on such a wondrous night, I told myself.

I felt a shiver up my spine as I pushed the thought from my head and tried to go to sleep…until I realized that Michael was nowhere to be seen. I initially assumed he simply went to the bathroom but then I noticed a strange smell. It smelled faintly metallic.

Blood has that smell.

I know because of biology and all of the crazy scary stories I read. It makes sense, blood has iron in it. I suddenly felt as cold as the frost that had covered all the windows of my house. I tried to rationalize before my imagination went into a feeding frenzy.

He probably got a nosebleed. He gets those all the time, I thought to myself. 

But doubt crept into my mind at the thought. The smell was too strong to be a mere nosebleed. 

What if someone broke into the house? What if they were a murderer? What if Michael tried to fight them off? 

All these thoughts and more barraged my psyche until I was too afraid to move--to breathe, even. 

That was until my eyes flickered to the decorative fireplace. All of the family members’ stockings were hanging there. 

But someone had put things in all of the stockings. 

And mine was filled with what looked like black rocks and a note. I automatically walked over to the fireplace to investigate the note, forgetting the fear that had once gripped me tighter than an iron fist. The note had a hastily, yet surprisingly well-written sentence: 

I’m sorry, but you were a naughty boy this year.

-Santa Claus

I was pondering what that meant when I was interrupted by a loud thud coming from upstairs. My heart skipped a beat as I stood frozen and listened. I heard a noise that I can only describe as inhuman. It was a deep, guttural sound with a slight gurgling noise mixed in. The noise sent a shudder throughout my entire body. The sound was followed by a dragging kind of sound, like when you pull a heavy box across the floor.

Then I heard the screams.

I say screams, but I really mean a pitiful moan that had just enough volume to technically be considered a scream. I ran upstairs to check on Michael and what I found will haunt me for the rest of my life. I saw what I can only describe as a demon dragging Michael’s battered and bleeding body towards an open window with snow blowing in and landing on the floor. The thing had horns that almost scraped against the ten-foot ceiling even though the creature was practically doubled over. The hideous monstrosity had the legs of a goat with the body of what only barely resembled a human figure. The head appeared to be a conglomerate of human and goat-like features that combined to make the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen.

Then the creature spoke slowly and deliberately in a gravely voice as if the thing had not spoken in a very long time and was trying to recall how speech worked.

“Hear me, mortal,” it said with hatred coating every single syllable it spoke. “I, Krampus, have made a grave error. I was meant to punish you for your behavior, but I accidentally punished your friend instead. So I leave you with this choice: I will take him with me back to my home to rend his flesh and feast on his bones. Or, you may take his place,” it said with glee.

My mind fumbled with the words, trying to grasp any comprehension but I was interrupted by Michael’s voice.

“Please…it hurts so much. Just kill me…,” Michale croaked with agony in his gasps for air.

It ripped at my heart to see him in such pain and torment. I almost wanted to give him his request. I wanted to rid him of his pain, and that seemed like the only choice I had.

“Tic-toc,” it chided. “I have other places to be and more naughty children to punish,” it spoke, relishing the final word, as if it could taste its next meal already.

I couldn’t speak. I was in shock. I hadn’t even believed Krampus existed and now he was standing in front of me, waiting for a response to an impossible ultimatum. I didn’t want to look at Michael on the floor, blood staining the carpet of my bedroom. I was alone, so I couldn’t ask for help from anyone. I couldn’t get my parents to beat away or explain that this monster was just my imagination playing tricks on me--not that that would help. This monster was far, far too real to be my imagination this time. 

Krampus squeezed Michael’s hand. 

The sounds of bones crunching and Michael’s scream of agony pulled me from my thoughts.

“I…I don’t know,” I stated pathetically.

“You don’t know? You don’t know whether or not you want to allow me to torture your friend in your stead?” it asked me accusingly, incredulous to the fact that I was conflicted.

I remained silent. I soaked in the accusation and went numb. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. I shut down. 

The thought that anyone could be so conflicted in a situation like this seemed to anger the beast, and it hurled furious words toward me, bombarding me with guilt.

“Fine! I will take him! You have no choice anymore! You are a wretched, despicable man! To let someone suffer for your crimes while you go free… it’s vile.” 

He said those last words with such disappointment and repulsion that I dropped to my knees under the weight of my guilt. How could I let Michael pay for my misdoings? But it was too late. Krampus was going to punish me more than any physical pain could hurt me. 

I will have to live with this forever, I thought in horror.

Krampus revealed a sack that seemed far too small to fit Michael into, but proceeded to stuff him in anyways. All the while, Michael screamed and yelled and pleaded for anyone to save him as his bones were mangled and compacted into the confines of the sack.

Then the screams went silent.

Krampus cinched the sack tight and flung it over one of his massive shoulders before he lept from the second-story bedroom to the concrete driveway below and I was left by myself. Alone again.

The next day I pretended to celebrate Christmas with my family as my siblings and I opened presents that were left under the tree. My parents asked about the soaked carpet and the blood on the floor and I simply told them that Michael had gotten one of his nosebleeds and he leaned out the window for a bit while I fetched him some tissues and he eventually left... I apologized and proceeded to clean the floor. While I scrubbed the bedroom floor over and over, trying to scrub the crimson substance from the white carpet, I thought about what I had done and I collapsed right there and started to bawl. I cried and cried as I mourned the loss of my friend and I also sobbed from the guilt that I would have to carry for the rest of my life. The police would assume that he had run away when, in reality, it was my fault that he was taken and I couldn’t even tell another living soul what had actually happened. I was alone.