8 Days, 8 Letters; Spot Conlon

The Krampus Visit

A/N: Hey everyone! This was kind of a fun chapter I wanted to write. Anyways please enjoy the next chapter of 8 Days, 8 Letters.

Present Day: December 1899

Jaime's POV

Another holiday, another forced day off of work.

At least there's shenanigans to look forward to in the morning.

It was late on Christmas Eve and I had been tossing and turning for an hour.

I rolled over and saw the little ones sneaking out the door.

I cocked an eyebrow.

What are they up to?

I crept out of bed and followed behind them.

As I inched down the stairs, I could over hear their conversation.

"Drummer, you's can go over there with Hot Shot," Snipe ordered. "Tumblr, you's can go behind the desk and Boots can go behind the stairwell."

The boys went to their spots, disappearing in the shadows.

I heard the stair creak behind me.

"Who's there?" I whisper shouted.

"It's me," someone whispered.

"That's not helpful!"

"Jack."

"What are you's doin' up?"

"I's could ask you's the same question."

"I's asked first."

"I'm seein' what the littles are up to. Now what are you's doin' here?"

"Seein' what you're up to."

We sat in the stairs and observed the front of the lodge house.

Kloppman came in, throwing a large bag over his shoulders. He began shaking the snow off his boots unaware of the kids hiding in the room.

The littles suddenly jumped on Kloppman, shouting war cries.

"What are you's lunatics doing!" he yelled.

"False alarm, fellas," Snipe announced.

Kloppman squeezed his desk for dear life, his other hand holding his chest.

The previously sleeping newsies came running down the stairs after hearing the commotion.

"What is goin' on down here?"

"We were sleeping!"

"I's need my beauty sleep!"

We all looked at the littles.

"We were waiting for Krampus," Tumblr chimed.

"Since when did I look like Krampus," Kloppman muttered.

"Yeah. We were protecting the lodge house," Boots added, ignoring Kloppman's comment.

Earlier that day, Kloppman told them the story of Krampus. He had grown up in Germany, so he had heard the story many times as a child.

"Okay. Bed all of you's," I sighed.

The littles headed up the stairs first while the older ones followed.

Skittery and I headed down the stairs to check on Kloppman.

"You's alright, Mr. Kloppman?" Skittery asked.

"Yes. Yes. Just startled."

"Need help with that?" I asked, motioning to the sack on the ground.

"No need. Why don't you both head up to bed. It's Christmas tomorrow."