Day 4: The Summoning

(from the personal journal of Krampus, Vice Director of Naughty List Enforcement)

There’s nothing like the smell of fresh brimstone in the morning. Crisp, toasty, full of potential.

Some demons dread the season. They whine about quotas, travel fatigue, or sleigh-related sciatica. Not me. December is when I thrive. While others are hitting snooze on their eternal torments, I’m lacing up the hooves, tightening the chains, and reviewing my naughty metrics.

They call it punishment. I call it purpose.

So when the summoning rune flared red last night, I didn’t complain. I checked my talon calendar, confirmed the date (Krampusnacht Eve—beautiful timing), and smiled. “Another chance to make a difference,” I said to no one in particular.

Then came the teleport. Always a little jarring. One moment you’re in the Underrealm cafeteria eating molten oatmeal, the next you’re in a barn on Earth surrounded by cows who crap where they stand.

I took a deep breath of mortal air. Hay. Sugar. Desperation. Mmm. Smelled like promotion potential.

The summoning circle was sloppy: hand-drawn peppermint dust, uneven symmetry, cookie offering slightly overbaked—but the effort was there. I appreciate initiative. I checked the manifest. Target: MAX WINTERS, age eight.

Oh, I’d read about him. “The Soap Avalanche of ’25.” “The Great Reindeer Redecoration.” Local legend. Beautiful record. The kind of kid who makes my hooves tingle with professional admiration.

I grinned. “Finally, someone who still believes in consequences.”

I brushed straw from my fur and straightened my cloak. Presentation matters. You never know when a mortal will remember your posture for a millennium.

Stepping into the snow, I admired my reflection in the window—horns even, tail glossy. I take pride in my grooming. A sloppy Krampus is a disrespected Krampus.

Then I saw her.

The mother.

Human. Tired. Pretty in that “holds the world together with caffeine and duct tape” sort of way. She was stirring cocoa for the boy, smiling through exhaustion. It was… unsettling.

She looked like someone who deserved a quiet evening, not a demonic visitation.

For a moment, I hesitated. Not out of compassion (please, I’m a professional) but because it complicated the workflow. The Handbook is very clear: “Emotional entanglement compromises enforcement.”

Still, the boy laughed, the mother smiled, and something in my chest—not a heart, per se, but the adjacent space—twitched.

I shook it off. “Focus, Krampus. Discipline. Deliverables.”

I reviewed my internal checklist:
☑ Confirm naughty status.
☑ Initiate scare protocol.
☑ Drag soul (if applicable).
☑ File report by dawn.

Simple. Efficient. Rewarding.

So why, instead of starting the job, was I standing in the snow staring at a window that smelled like cinnamon and second chances?

I told myself it was reconnaissance. It sounded better than “curiosity.”

Either way, I knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be just another December.


I have a new book out! Someone Else's Book Club is available on my website or through Amazon! 

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