Maxwell Stegner, originally from Ukiah, California, is a celebrated author and knife maker, now living in the Bay Area with his family. His debut novel, the first in the 'Behind the Curtain' trilogy, was a resounding success, sparking a passion for writing that continues to thrive. Maxwell's works, primarily in literary fiction, captivate readers with their immersive narratives and intricate world-building. His storytelling, much like his knife making, is a craft that requires patience, precision, and a keen eye for detail. As he continues his writing journey, Maxwell invites readers to join him in exploring the depths of human emotion and experience through his stories.
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THE KRAMPUS FEAST
by
Maxwell Stegner
It was Christmas Eve, a time of joy and celebration. The air was filled with the scent of pine and gingerbread, a comforting aroma that brought back memories of simpler times. My family and I were huddled around the fireplace, the flickering flames casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. The room was filled with the sound of laughter and the soft hum of Christmas carols playing in the background.
My wife, Martha, was knitting by the fire, her needles clicking rhythmically. The soft flame of the fire illuminated her face, highlighting the lines of age and wisdom that had formed over the years. My two children, Lucy and Michael, were playing with their new toys, their laughter echoing through the house. Their faces were filled with pure joy, a sight that warmed my heart. We always allowed the kids to open one gift each on Christmas Eve as way to ease into the holiday spirit and this year was no different.
Martha and I had been struggling this year financially and we would fight about money every night. I hated arguing around the children but we often would. Overhearing our squabbles, Lucy and Michael had taken it hard. It wasn’t long before they began fighting amongst themselves and act out in school. Michael had just been expelled the week before Christmas break for getting into a fight with another boy. In a heated argument Martha had told Michael that if he didn’t straighten up the Krampus would come for him. I laughed it off as just another plot to get the kids to behave. We were able to save enough to buy the kids a few gifts and Christmas always had a way of bringing us all together as a family. We had our problems but still loved each other and tonight those problems had melted away and we were enjoying the wonderful evening.
Suddenly, a chilling wind swept through the room, extinguishing the fire and plunging us into darkness. The laughter ceased, replaced by the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. The room was filled with an eerie silence, the only sound was the soft rustling of the wind outside.
"Daddy, I'm scared," Lucy whimpered, clutching her doll tightly. Her voice was filled with fear, a stark contrast to the joyous laughter that had filled the room just moments ago.
"It's okay, sweetheart," I reassured her, my voice trembling. "I'll go check the windows."
As I moved towards the window, a monstrous figure loomed in the darkness. Its eyes sparked a sinister red, and its mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth. It was Krampus, the Christmas demon, known for devouring naughty children and leaving their bones as a gruesome reminder of his visit.
"No!" I screamed, rushing towards my family. But it was too late. Krampus lunged, his claws slashing through the air. I felt a searing pain in my arm, and then everything went black.
When I woke up, I was lying in a pool of my own blood. My left arm was gone, replaced by a bloody stump. The room was eerily silent, the only sound was the soft whimpering of our dog, Max.
"Martha? Lucy? Michael?" I called out, my voice echoing through the empty house. But there was no response. I stumbled to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest.
The sight that met my eyes was more sickening than anything I could have imagined. The room was a massacre, the walls splattered with blood. And in the center of the room, neatly arranged in a grotesque display, were the bones of my family. I fell to my knees, my screams echoing through the silent house. The Christmas lights twinkled mockingly, hurling a sickly glow on the dreadful scene. The taste of bile rose in my throat, and I retched, the sour taste of despair filling my mouth.
As I sat there, surrounded by the remains of my family, I could only think of one thing. Krampus had visited, and he had taken everything from me. My family, my arm, my happiness. All that was left was the bitter taste of loss and the haunting image of my family's bones, a gruesome reminder of the holiday nightmare that had become my reality.
The rest of the night was a blur. I sat there, in the blood-soaked room, staring at the remains of my family. The once joyous Christmas Eve had turned into a night of revulsion and despair. The laughter and joy that had filled the room were replaced by the chilling silence of death.
As the sun rose, forming a soft radiance on the horrific scene, I knew that my life would never be the Michaele. The joy of Christmas had been replaced by the horror of Krampus. The memory of my family's laughter was replaced by the haunting image of their bones. And the warmth of the fireplace was replaced by the chilling cold of loss.
Krampus had visited, and he had taken everything from me. And all that was left was the bitter taste of loss and the haunting memory of the Krampus Feast.