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Each year on December 5th, a person in my hometown is brutally murdered. The police are at a loss. With each victim, a poetic story is left behind. Below are the stories from the past three years.

* * * * * *

Fredrik loved to smile, for he was always glad. Happy, warm, and gentle — never, ever sad. But Fredrik had a secret, one he only knew. This man loved to strangle children, he turned them cold and blue.


The townsfolk never found them, for he was very smart. Fredrik took their corpses, and pulled them all apart. “It couldn’t be young Fredrik,” everyone would say. “He is a man of God— we always see him pray.”

The cold night came, and Fredrik rested his head. But soon he heard a scratching, underneath his bed. Fredrik trembled as he looked, oil lamp in hand. On his bedroom floor— the Demon had a plan.

“Away with you, beast, the night is dark and long.  You have no business here, for I have done no wrong.” Krampus only laughed, as he shook his rusty chain. He hung Fredrik by the neck, until he writhed in pain.

The links constricted, digging into skin. Fredrik then cried out, paying for his sin. He begged and pleaded, until his final breath. With a beautiful snap, Frederick bled to death.

Krampus hung him out to dry. And all the townsfolk began to cry. But not the children, for now their souls were free. And under Fredrick’s body, the phantoms danced with glee.

* * * * * *


Greta loved herself, more than she could bear. She never had enough, and could never, ever share. Want was nevermore; it was only need. Her envy grew and grew, and with it came her greed.

Greta needed more, but money wasn’t flush. So she stole from her family, it gave her quite the rush. “It is not enough,” to herself she would say. “I must have it all, there is no other way.”

Into her grandparents’ home, Greta crept inside. They had many treasures, jewelry and gemstones pied. But when she looked about, wealth she did not find. Only ancient Krampus, with something on his mind.

Greta shrieked and trembled, staring at his claws. She knew there would be no mercy from this evil Santa Claus.


“You shall have the riches,” Krampus said with a grin. And he gave them to her, after peeling off her skin.

* * * * * *

Herman was a doctor, for that’s what he would say. And every single patient, they would have to pay. He cut, and pulled, and burned. And after he was done, for more he always yearned.

This surgeon was a butcher, who had a taste for swine. With their bleeding flesh, he’d pair a fine red wine. The hunger took him, body, mind and soul. Yet this evil, it never took its toll.

Herman was alone; in his chair, he sat. All this human meat had made him very fat. He drifted off to slumber and began to snore — until an angry Krampus burst through the door.

Herman could not move, he wet himself in fright. Krampus licked his lips, and let out a squeal of delight. First he gouged out his eyes, and Herman could not see. Then Krampus filleted his tongue, it was tender as could be.


Christmas is joyous, full of love and cheer. But you must remember the one that we all fear. So be kind to one another, show love and heed this text. Or Krampus will find you, and you will certainly be next.

* * * * * *

The police are seeking any information that may help bring the killer to justice. As of this morning, three more bodies have been found in a neighboring village.

Credit: J. Speziale (Official Website • FacebookTwitterRedditAmazon)

Publisher’s Note: The author requests that anyone who desires to narrate, perform, or adapt this story to any other format, or feature it on a YouTube channel, podcast, or other platform, contact them for permission before doing so. Use of the author’s work without this permission is strictly prohibited. You may reach the author here. Thank you!


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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed under any circumstance.

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