Christmas Tales is a novel I wrote
Informations:
1. This novel is a sequel/spin-off book of The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993). And even the sequel novel of Halloween Legends.
2. This novel consists of four chapters, each with a story.
3. This no...
This story is told by a boy about his grandfather who fought in World War II.
"My Grandfather, aged 98, served in the English military, from 1940 to 1948. He has several medals from his time in the service. It also goes without saying, he has quite a few stories to tell. He has stories of being a P.O.W. to the Germans, storming forts, and, according to him, disemboweling a man with a garden trowel. Even in his old age, he still can recollect them quite cleary, because he has a very good memory. His most interesting story, however, is from December of 1944.
He had escaped from a German P.O.W. camp, where he was put while they prepared for transferral to a concentration camp. It was during his time on the run he came to a small German village. The people, who were not fans of Adolf Hitler, hid him from the Gestapo. However, there would be not need.
The following is the story, as written in his journal:
"I belive the date was December 5th, or 6th. The people hid me from Hitler's soldiers, but seemed fearful to walk the street on this night. The children were excited for coming of Saint Nicholas, I gathered. Hitler had tried to scrub away any religious influence on the holiday, but in small villages such as this, the people did not adhere to all of the Führer's guidelines.
I was hidden with a family of four. Two children, a mother and her father. The father of the children was conscripted to Hitler's army to the Wehrmacht. The children were about 9 or 10, if I had to guess. I didn't see them that much, as I was beneath the floor. With a small window as my only company, as the moonlight shone in through the glass.
I heard the mother speak with who I can only presume was the S.S. (the Schutzstaffel), looking for me. They barked something in German, and then the air was silent. I heard one of the lesser Nazis, say, and this is a rough translation as I don't know much German.
Nazi: Commander, we must be going!
His voice, seemed almost frightened.
I heard sleigh bells, and noticed the Nazi voices get more paincked in tone. The door shut, and the children were placed in the cellar (I assume that was the cellar.) with me. I looked across the road, out of my window and saw a silhouette in the night. The figure appeared to wear a cloak, and a set of goat horns. This would be strange enough, but it was also on top of a house.
I heard screaming from above me. The scream of the mother, and the Nazis. There was a crash, and I felt a chill in the air.
I silenced the children, who at this point were understandably frightened. There were gunshots, then silence. I expected to hear the barking of the Gestapo but instead, I heard heavy steps. Like hooves but far too large. Chains scraped on the floor, above the children and I. The door to the hidden area swung open.
The boy, I belive his name was Klaus, let out a shriek, and suddenly was snatched up! Through the floorboards! Same with the little girl.
I wasn't going to sit by and let this happen. I rose from my hiding placey shaken, but undeterred. The bodies of the Gestapo, the mother, and her father, lay gutted and strewn about. The gore on the beings horns named it the culprit. It was putting the girl in a large sack on its back, where I could see movement from what I could only assume was other children. It wore many furs, and chains. It had a hunched disposition.
Me: STOP!
I yelled at the cloaked figure. It turned, standing upright from it's hunched position. It stood easily nine or so feet tall.
It had the body of a man, with long sharp knife like fingers. The horns were a part of it's person, growing from it's goat like head. It smiled at me, with crooked rotten teeth. It's eyes were also very much goatlike. Among its many chains were sleigh bellsy jingling as it moved.
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I grabbed the pistol from the dead Gestapo's hand, and fired upon it.
It didn't move. It hardly seemed fazed. It let out a cackle, and left the house. Why had it not killed me? I ran after it, and saw many other houses in the village were similarly ransacked. Bodies strewn about, and their fireplaces seemingly demolished. It threw it's large bag onto a sleigh, pulled by nine hellish goasts. The sleigh itself was adorned with many furs and chains. Human faces in anguish also were visible, thought I can't be sure if they were actual faces or merely representations. I heard the cries of children as it gave me one more grin.
It said to me, simply:
It: Fröhliche Krampusnacht!
It whipped the goasts, and they ran off into the night. That night I would hear many screams in the distance. I noticed the children remaining in the village, two mornings later, were greeted with a great deal of gifts. I left after two days, and continued to allied territories, ducking Gestapo at every turn."
Ever since I was a kid, he insisted that all of his children and grandchildren stay at his home on December 5th. And he always made sure the fire burns hot."
