"Maybe a Krampus could whip the kids during this parade. Hopefully make them appreciate life and complain less.” I grumble to Gabe as we wait in the crowds. Supposedly, it is not uncommon for a decorative whip held by the costumed Krampus to accidentally branish the first row of onlookers.
Far in the distance, the energy of the crowd lulls silent. I look towards that end of town where the sun is slowly setting over the mountain slopes. Everyone near us quiets as the approaching dusk covers us. There is a strained second of pure silence before screams and shouts start echoing off the mountains. Over the cries, I can hear an unrhythmic drumming. The parade has begun.
The first Krampus all carry drums which they beat wildly with the singular goal of making noise and invoking terror.
“These costumes look like a bad mix of Bigfoot and a goat,” Gabe chuckles.
The first few groups have very similar black and brown furry costumes but each Krampus wears different grotesque masks adorned with horns. The second wave of costumed men pause our chortles as they crack whips over their heads. They raise switches and run towards the lines of revelers watching them, screaming into their faces. Screams start overtaking the crowds. With each passing group the costumes became more ornate. The fur appears to have patterning that could be of real fur. The masks that seem to be carved from wood. Now that night has come over the town, the torches the Krampus carry cast twisted shadows and hide the imperfections of the costumes which makes each Krampus look more real. More like the legend they are trying to evoke.
“They are serious about this.” Gabe murmurs as we watch each group of Krampus becoming more and more grotesque. Some with whips, others with bells, all screaming and scaring the onlookers. There are cages pulled by horses, also wearing horns, of supposedly bad children. The sweet music the musicians played during the day has left the town and is now an electronic rock blasting from speakers on top of the cages. The watchers also are getting loud - laughing, smiling, screaming. The crowd pulses with delight that is slightly disturbed. As I finish off the last of my wine, I start to sway with the horrors of the parade.
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After a crew of Krampus with the longest of tongues, beards dragging to the ground, and largest of horns, I can see St Nicholas bringing up the rear of the parade.
“I suppose they need to soften all the nightmares they just gave us.” St Nicholas and his elves are handing out candies and smiles.
As I admire the last of the Krampus passing us now, I notice a very tall unmasked man walking behind them. His long brown and black hair parts so perfectly around the horns he somehow has attached to his head, it almost appeared as if they were real. From light cast from torches, I can see his face is scarred and carries a scowl of perfect irrelevance. Though his eyes give away that he actually has an interest in being here - they dart around the crowds scanning for something. He wears a complete black outfit with a fur cloak dragging behind him, this one definitely made of real fur. I look around at the crowds as it does not appear anyone besides myself even notices him. His dark appearance camouflages him nicely into the night and the crowds, already over the gore show, already have their eyes on St. Nicholas.
As I look back at this Krampus, probably the scariest one so far due to the fact he does not need a costume, he looks directly at me. I feel darkness in that stare of black eyes. My stomach sours and clenches. My throat is dry and my hands become wet with cool sweat. I feel like his stare lasts forever. Finally, he turns his gaze from me but not before a slight malicious grin comes to the corners of his mouth. As he passes me, I see starlight flash off his clawed hand, which he has held behind his back.