“...and Krampus snatched them up and dragged them to hell!” My brother, Leon, shouted, grabbing me by my arms and dragging me toward the fireplace.

I shrieked, wriggling out of his grip. “He’s not real!” I said defiantly, dancing away from his reach and crossing my arms. “You can’t scare me.”

“Oh really?” His mouth quirked into that sly grin. “Are you going to test that theory?”

“Even if he was real, which he’s not, I’ve been good this year so he wouldn’t drag me away.”

“You never know. How good do you have to be to evade Krampus?”

I rolled my eyes and turned around, eager to get in bed and wake up tomorrow and open presents. I crouched beside the tree and shook the presents, tuning out my brother as he continued his Krampus rant, until my mother ushered us to bed.

The blankets were a warm cocoon and the pillows fluffy clouds which is why it took me so long to realize the knocking on my window wasn’t in my dream. I came to wakefulness slowly and sluggishly, each knock waking me up more and more. I lifted my head, hair plastered on the side of my face and looked around.

The room was dark and warm, the sounds of the settling house creaking around me. I turned my gaze to the widow and a hot wave of fear encompassed me. Extending from the inky blackness were two curved horns, shiny in the starlight, and dark gray hair surrounding a snarling face.

I screamed.

The thing, no Krampus, slammed against the window, it’s own scream breaking from its throat. I struggled in my covers, shrieking, hot, wet tears falling from my eyes and down my cheeks.

Krampus broke through the window with the shatter of glass and a shrill screech. The monster launched at me, gripping chains in one hand and birch whips in the other.

I broke free from the covers and threw myself off the bed, slamming against the floor. My wrist blossomed with pain and the shriek of springs told me Krampus had landed on my bed.

I scrambled to my feet, cradling my hurt wrist to my chest and stood there, staring, tears streaming down my face. Krampus loomed above me, a permanent snarl captured his face. My brain screamed at me to run but I was frozen. Then, he draws back his hand, the birch whip gripped in his hand.

An explosion of stars and stinging pain erupt across my face as I pinwheeled backward. Numbly, I’m aware of someone shouting, my door opening, but a ear splitting ring has taken residence in my ears.

“Now do you believe?! Now?!” Krampus screeched, the sound far off and not quite right.

“Leon!” A distant voice shouted, “what are you doing?!”

I looked up realizing I’m slumped against the wall. My father is pinning Krampus to the bed, yelling something. My mom dropped down beside me pulling her to me, asking if I’m okay.

“Krampus,” I tried, my voice thick and slow like molasses coming from my throat.

“No, baby, not Krampus.” And then she’s crying.

Now I realize how he looked nothing like Krampus. Looking at him through a groggy head and black darkness had made his horns look real and sharp, the snarl real jagged teeth, the hair long and soft. What it really was was a rubber mask, poorly made and nothing like the real Krampus. The birch whip had been real though, I knew that by the swollen side of my face and the concussion that stole my ability to think straight. What was fake, though, was my brother’s love. I don’t know why he did it, why he needed to make me believe so badly but he did. I don’t think I’ll ever understand and, honestly, I didn’t want too.