Omi Engel

It started with the wind, on a cold night, much like this. It was almost Christmas, but this Christmas was darker, less cheerful. But I still believed in Santa, in magic and miracles, and the hope that we could find joy again. But our village had given up on miracles, and on each other. They had forgotten the spirit of Christmas, the sacrifice of giving. And my family was no different. I tried to help them to believe again, but we were no longer the loving family I remembered. They too had given up. And eventually, so did I. And for the first time, I didn't wish for a miracle. I wished for them to go away. A wish I would come to regret. And that night, in the darkness of a howling blizzard... I got my wish. I knew Saint Nicholas was not coming this year. Instead, it was a much darker, more ancient spirit. The shadow of Saint Nicholas. It was Krampus. And as he had for thousands of years, Krampus came not to reward, but to punish, not to give, but to take. He, and his helpers. I could only listen as they dragged my family into the underworld, knowing that I would be next. But Krampus didn't take me that night... He left me, as a reminder of what happens when hope is lost, when belief is forgotten... and the Christmas spirit dies.