When Oliver fell backwards while overenthusiastically singing one of the drinking songs, Gabe and I decided to bid night to our new friends. We walk quietly through the dusting of snow under the starlight as we drag Oliver back to the hotel.
“I actually have been enjoying the holiday spirit of this town. I could live with this type of Christmas.”
“I'm not surprised. You would be the type to turn more festive when a holiday has wicked beasts involved in it.”
“Seriously. This type of holiday is beautiful, intentional, handmade. Not over-commercialized or overzealous like my family. Here it seems like you can enjoy the little things. The lights, the good humor, the being together.” I am such a Scrooge about the holidays. My family is over the top during the holidays in the worst way. They suddenly become fervent Catholics and at the same time max out their credit cards. When I was younger and my grandmother was still with us, it was different. There were handmade traditions she made us all do together. We all joined begrudgingly but I secretly loved it. With her passing, we lost this magic. My dad and I try to recreate her holiday picana but it is never the same.
It also doesn’t help that now I am the only single one in my extended family and most family gatherings consist of my aunties trying to hook me up with their friend’s nephew or their neighbor’s godson. I am glad to be living a few hours away from my family and only come to town for the day but that also makes the rest of the holiday season lonely. In the past, I would spend time with my friends but they have slowly coupled up and started their own families. For the past few years it was just Gabe and I. Though I wonder if that will happen this year. The relationship Gabe is in has gotten very serious recently despite him denying it. The holidays have become an expensive and stressful time I try to avoid.
“I’m going to stay outside a bit longer. I just can’t get over these stars.” They are pulsating over the mountains, brighter than I had ever seen. As if the stars knew the fate of the night.
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“So I get to pour this sack of a human into bed by myself?”
“I talked to the creepy Krampus.”
“That was for your own good. But yes, maybe it’s best you don’t help this drowning fish get into bed as he might pull you in right after.”
“Thanks, bestie.”
I walk back towards town and sit on a park bench. I drop my head back to take in the night sky. The twinkling of snow and stars fill my vision. I breathe deeply.
I lost track of time when someone sits down at the other end of the bench. Another Krampus. He looks with intrigue at me. His hair is long and white, coming perfectly down around his horns to his broad shoulders. His almost perfect face smiles coyly at me. He also looks quite drunk.
“The stars are beautiful this time of year. But you are shining more brightly than any star in the sky.” he said in a thick accent. I roll my eyes loudly at this.
As he inches closer, I decide his handsome features outweigh his horrible pick up line. The wine and the vibe of the town overtake my rational brain and I decide he might not be a bad one-nighter.
“Hello, I'm Aloysius. And you are?”
Before I can decide if and how I want to respond, he continued “A dream, I know. What would it take for a small town boy like me to share a drink with a beautiful American woman like you?” I snort. How many tourists did that line work on?
“What do you think of Krampusnacht? Did it leave you feeling a little bit, what do you call it, horny?” his eyes now were less playful. He moves closer. His eyes now move from my face down over my body.
I didn't like this look. The initial primitive interest in him due to alcohol and hormones evaporates. I start to feel on edge. There is something more than just his cheesy pickups and eerie smile. Something cold and unsettling about him. A metallic cold that I can smell. He had gotten that close to me.
As he puts his hand on my leg, I stand up reflexively. I feel uncomfortable now and it only intensifies as I feel a dark cold come up behind me. Like the one I felt in the bar. The white haired man’s face turns from desire to disgust as he is now looking over me. I slowly clench my hands into fists and turn my head, keeping an eye on the man on the bench while also looking at the figure behind me. Curses.