A Krampus Country Christmas: Day 17

 

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 squeeze her fingers, like he needed to make sure she was still there. She squeezed back. Everything is fine, she told him silently. Everything is fine, everything is—

Her thoughts stalled when she saw him.

Nick.

He stood near the gazebo, lantern light tracing the sharp lines of his face. But something was wrong. His posture was tight. His eyes flickered — not metaphorically, but literally — dim embers that pulsed faintly with each breath.

And he looked exhausted. More than exhausted. Frayed.

He’d tried to look normal. Coat buttoned, gloves on. But Holly could see the strain underneath. Like whatever he was, whatever he’d been hiding, was pressing hard against the thin human mask he wore.

He caught her staring and attempted a smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes.

Mayor Candy Garland hopped onto the stage, bright as a Christmas bulb about to blow.

“WELCOME, Tinsel Bluff!” she boomed. “Tonight, we celebrate light overcoming darkness! Goodness overcoming gloom! Joy defeating, well, whatever’s been going around lately!”

People murmured. She smoothed her peppermint blazer.

“Let us begin with a ceremonial lighting of the candles!”

Everyone raised their small glass votives. Everyone except Nick, who was staring fixedly at the tree line.

Holly nudged Max. “Stay close, okay?”

He nodded, jaw clenched.

Mayor Garland lifted her own candle. “On this night, we remember that even in the coldest winter, warmth exists. Even in the deepest dark, light shines.”

The crowd hummed with soft agreement. Then—

Flick. Flick.

Two candles near the front sputtered.

Then blew out.

People laughed softly, relighting them.

Flick. Flick-flick.

A cluster of lights winked out. Then another. A ripple of unease moved through the square.

“What’s happening?” someone whispered.

“Faulty wicks?”

“Draft?”

Holly’s breath caught. Something cold slid down her spine. Behind the crowd, a trio of shapes shifted between booths — small, quick, wrong. Disguised in winter hats and scarves, but unmistakable in their movements. Snide shoulders. Twitching elbows.

Nick’s minions.

And they were deliberately snuffing out candles.

Mayor Garland tried to laugh it off. “No worries, folks! Just a little wind!”

But there was no wind. The air was perfectly still. Holly turned toward Nick. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t blinking. Just staring straight ahead, jaw tight, hands trembling at his sides.

She took a step toward him. “Nick?”

He didn’t answer.

“Nick,” she said again, louder.

Slowly, he turned. His voice was thin, strained. “You should take Max home.”

“What? Why?”

“The light won’t hold,” he whispered.

She swallowed. “Nick… what’s going on?”

He looked at her with something between sorrow and fear — a look she’d seen only once before, when Max had a fever that wouldn’t break and she truly didn’t know if he’d be alright.

“I’m losing time,” he said softly. “And strength.”

“Strength? From what—?”

“Krampusnacht,” he said, barely audible. “It’s close.”

Before she could respond, a scream cut through the square:

“A MONSTER!”

But when people spun toward the noise, they didn’t see a monster.

They saw a minion — Greeble — yanking the tablecloth from a cocoa stand and darting under it like a raccoon stealing food from a picnic table. The vendor shrieked. Lanterns toppled. Cider spilled across the snow. The crowd lurched. Children cried.

Greg North grabbed his girlfriend and yelled, “See? See? I told you something weird is going on!”

Holly’s heart pounded. She turned back to Nick, whose mask was slipping. The shadows behind him writhed, barely restrained. Tiny sparks flared under his collar. His eyes smoldered red. He took one painful step backward.

“Holly,” he said, voice cracking like breaking ice. “Please. Take Max home.”

And with that, he vanished — not like a man stepping away, but like the night itself folded around him and carried him off.

Max grabbed Holly’s hand tight.

“Mom,” he whispered, trembling, “I think he’s scared.”

Holly swallowed hard.

“So am I,” she murmured.

Around them, the last candles dimmed. The square shivered with cold. And somewhere in the red forest of Max’s dreams, something ancient stirred.

Krampusnacht was almost here.

My new comedic sci-fi novel, Someone Else's Book Club, is available on my website or through Amazon!