Krampus

The unforgiving icy wind blew snow covering Santa’s workshop. Big hoofprints trail toward the open swinging door. All through the workshop, you heard the sound of a whistling machine making a repeating banging noise. The conveyor belt kept pushing half-finished toys out that got jammed in the machine; no one was around to operate it. Blood splattered all over the walls and smeared across the floor. In a corner, a pile stacked high of tiny mutilated elf parts with lights wrapped them like a Christmas tree. In the study sat Santa, whose face was beaten in by what looked like hooves. Blood dripped on the letters from kids who thought Christmas would be like every other year. Outside in the stable, the reindeer would lay; they were all slaughtered horrifyingly. Pieces of antlers laid about, and the sleigh bells on the ground. A huge roar echoed miles away from a small town across the icy lake. Kids tucked in tight in their beds with hopes of Santa Claus coming to bring their gifts. Unfortunately, this year Krampus broke free from the prison that Santa placed him in. Krampus walked over to the first small house he saw and breathed intensely on the window. He could smell that naughty children lived in this home and cracked a menacing smile. Krampus climbed the roof of the tiny house with his sack and crawled down the chimney.