Metaphysical Furniture

  Chapter 24: Christmas Morning Snow fell gently over the Winters farm like someone had shaken the world’s largest glitter globe. It was quiet in that way only Christmas morning can be — soft, glowing, peaceful, impossibly new. Holly had prepared herself to wake up from all of it. The Red Forest, the Keeper, the Hunter. Even Nick. It all felt like something her exhausted mind might have invented. But when she stepped into the living room, Max already awake and in his pajamas, her breath caught. Nick was there on the floor failing spectacularly to assemble a toy train set He had instructions spread across the rug. Tools in both hands. Holly noticed those hands were not the Krampus claws that conquered the judgments of the Keeper. And there were not horns. This was the Nick that entered her shop with a clipboard claiming to be a consultant. He was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. And the expression of a man facing the most terrifying challenge of his life. “Why,” he muttere...

  Chapter 23: The Final Trial The world had become fire. Red Forest fire. Ancient, hallowed, burning without heat but carrying every judgment ever spoken in its glow. Symbols melted through the air like molten runes. Chains clanged from the trees. And somewhere above, the sky tore open in a fracture of crimson light. I stood in the center of it, claws dug deep into the glowing soil, body shaking with exhaustion. The Keeper towered in front of me, antlers blazing, eyes like twin suns of condemnation. Behind me, pressed against my back, were Holly and Max. My heart beat not for duty. Not for fear. Not even for survival. For them. The Keeper’s voice rolled through the clearing: “KRAMPUS… YOU DEFY YOUR PURPOSE.” I lifted my chin. “I shall forge a new one.” “THE BOY IS MARKED FOR THE LIST.” “He is marked,” I growled, “for greatness.” A snarl tore through the woods. The Hunter emerged, larger now, with jagged horns and hooves crushing the forest floor beneath it. It moved like a shadow g...

  Chapter 22: The Heart of the Forest The Red Forest pulsed like a living heartbeat around them. A slow, deep thrum like the world itself was waiting for something to break. Holly clutched Max close as the Keeper loomed overhead, antlers scraping the glowing canopy, eyes burning with judgment older than winter. Nick had vanished into that crack in the earth minutes — or hours? — ago. Time didn’t work right here. Everything felt stretched thin and trembling. “Mom,” Max whispered, voice small, “is Nick coming back?” Holly didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat was too tight. The forest rustled. A fissure of red light tore open in the ground. And Nick stumbled out. Not the perfect, controlled Nick she’d known. Not the gentle, awkward man hugging cocoa mugs and clipboards. This Nick was battered. Bleeding. His fur matted with soot; his horns cracked at the tips. His eyes burned brighter than ever but the light behind them was tired. He staggered, caught himself, and looked at her with...

  Chapter 21: The Trial of Krampus There are many punishments a creature like me can face. Fire. Chains. Exile. But none compare to the one I feared most: Judgment from the Red Forest. The Keeper towered above us — antlers scraping the glowing canopy, breath a furnace of ancient winter. Its eyes burned like molten runes, seeing everything: my form, my failures, my hesitation, my hopes. And worst of all, my heart. Mortals talk about their hearts breaking. Demons don’t. Not because we’re immune, but because we don’t survive it when it happens. Tonight, I would test that theory. The Keeper’s voice cracked the world around us: “KRAMPUS, WHY DO YOU SHIELD THE BOY?” I stepped forward, claws sinking into the glowing soil. Holly gasped behind me. Max held her hand, trembling. I should have been terrified. Instead, I felt only a sharp, painful clarity. “I shield him,” I said, “because he is not wicked.” “HE IS NAUGHTY.” “Naughty,” I growled, “is not wicked.” The forest sh...

  Chapter 20: The Keeper of the Red Forest The moment the Hunter stepped out of the woods, the storm stopped pretending to be weather. Wind slammed into the house from all sides, rattling the windows like fists. The lantern light flickered. The air smelled like burning cedar and cold iron. Nothing natural, nothing safe. Nick stood in the doorway, enormous and trembling, claws curling into the frame. “Go,” he said. “Now.” Holly grabbed Max’s coat with shaking hands. “Where?” “Into the woods.” “That’s the worst suggestion!” “It’s the only suggestioin” Nick said, voice raw. “The house won’t hold. But the Red Forest… might.” Max froze. Holly’s stomach dropped. “The Red Forest,” she whispered. “From his dreams.” Nick turned, eyes burning. “Those weren’t dreams.” Another crash shook the house. The Hunter’s massive bulk slamming against the side like a battering ram of shadow and bone. Nick didn’t wait. He scooped Max into one massive arm — Max yelped but clung to him — and grabbed Holl...

  Chapter 19: The Hunt Begins The moment Nick said “Yes, we’re in danger,” the house seemed to shrink around Holly — walls tightening, shadows deepening, the old wood groaning under the weight of something ancient pressing in. Outside, the wind changed. It didn’t howl. It shrieked, high and sharp, as though the night were full of voices calling a name she did not want to hear. Max shrank behind her. Nick rose to his full, monstrous height — horns casting jagged shadows on the walls, red light pulsing faintly beneath his skin. Whatever illusion of safety Holly had been clinging to cracked like a thin layer of ice. “Mom,” Max whispered. “Something’s out there.” Holly forced herself to steady her breath. “Get behind me, sweetheart.” Nick shook his head. “No. Behind me. ” Something slammed against the front door. Hard. The entire house rattled. Max yelped. Holly’s heart leapt into her throat. Nick crouched low, claws flexing. “They’re testing the boundaries.” “Who?” Hol...

  Chapter 18: The Storm Breaks (Restricted Log — Krampus, Vice Director of Naughty List Enforcement, Northern Hemisphere Division) There are certain lines a demon is never supposed to cross. You don’t show weakness. You don’t question orders. And you absolutely, under no circumstances, allow mortals to see your true form. Tonight, I broke all three. I barely remember leaving the town square. One moment I was standing in the lantern glow, trying to keep myself contained — trying to keep them contained. And the next, I was swallowed by the forest, stumbling through the trees like a creature hunted by its own shadow. The minions were closing in. Krampusnacht was calling. And I was losing control of everything that made me look human. My claws itched beneath the gloves. My horns pressed hard against the glamour that hid them. My spine burned with the weight of what I am. I made it to the Winters’ farm, just barely. The house lights glowed warm through the snow like a...

  Chapter 17: The Festival of Lights The Festival of Lights was supposed to be peaceful. Soothing. A moment each December when Tinsel Bluff collectively put away its noise and bustle and gathered in the center of town to honor tradition. Instead, it felt like standing under a sky holding its breath. The air was sharp with cold, the kind that nipped at fingers and turned every exhale into a small ghost. Lanterns lined the square, glowing soft gold. Families clustered in thick coats, hands wrapped around warm cider. Children sang carols slightly off-key. It should have been perfect. But Holly felt unsettled. And everyone could tell. “You look pale, dear,” Mrs. Pringle whispered, handing her a knitted scarf that smelled faintly of lavender and extremely of cat. “I’m fine,” Holly lied, adjusting her grip on Max’s shoulder. “Just tired.” Max didn’t argue — unusual in itself. He kept staring at the forest edge, blinking like he was hearing something she couldn’t. Every so often he’d sque...