The next morning Gabe and I get up early to go to one of the cafes for breakfast. He noticed it yesterday and made me promise no matter how late we were out last night that I would join him.
It is quite empty compared to the bustle of the town yesterday. As our waiter comes over, we ask him why the lack of customers this morning.
“The festivities of Krampusnacht often keep people in bed a little bit longer this morning.” He laughed.
“You really take this holiday quite seriously around here?”.
“It's fun. But for some of the older generation, especially of those who grew up in these small mountain communities, they take it quite seriously. Krampus was a constant fear in their childhood. The story is that Krampus steals away bad children. Some people still believe Krampus live up in the mountains, hidden away by the snow-capped peaks of their mountain lairs.”
“Some of your townsfolk were pretty serious with their costumes. The ornate wooden masks.”
“And the ones that just wear horns without masks.What do they do - glue the horns on their scalp? I saw a few guys like that.”
“You did? Are you sure it wasn't a true Krampus?” His voice joked but his eyes shone a more serious question.
“I wouldn't know a true one from a fake one. They all were pretty scary to me, especially the ones with real whips.” We all laugh at that.
He pours us coffee and unprompted continues, “While the legend tells of a demon that punishes bad children, the opposite of St Nicholas, some believe that the Krampus are a gatekeeper to the magical realms. They are demons who turned good. Their old habits are the ones that persist in folklore but for some reason they have better intentions now. Or maybe their acts are hardly evil when compared to the other magical beings hidden in the shadows of the mountains. Some say they keep peace in the mountains - prevent avalanches and the evil of alps that live in the high mountains. Most agree they have magical abilities and can create snowstorms.” He is gazing wistfully towards the mountains as he speaks. In his pause he turns back to us. “Or I suppose we are just storytellers and always love to add a twist to the classics.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“What are alps?” Gabe asks. His love of history is intertwined with his love of folklore.
“Ah yes. I believe the English term is elves. The ones that bloom the delicate spring alpine flowers. Most tales describe them as playful creatures full of magic. But when the flowers die in the fall, they become feral and bloodthirsty. They need human sacrifice so the tales say. Supposedly the Krampus keep them at bay and in turn get blamed for any evil. Or most of our generation blames wolves.” He smiles. “Now, what can I bring you for breakfast?”
Once the waiter is out of earshot, Gabe teases me. “You think that creepy guy at the bar was a real Krampus?”
“No.” Gabe sees I hesitate in my response and lifts an eyebrow at me. “Well… last night after I left you at the hotel, I wandered around town. I met another guy that looked just as creepy as the one in the bar, no actually he was more sleazy than creepy. Anyways, he also wore horns, no mask. He was getting a little too close for comfort and at that exact moment the broody, dark Krampus from the bar showed up, acting like a complete gentleman and offered to walk me back to my hotel. Okay, I know that's not too abnormal but aside from showing up on cue, he was also talking to me about… well I don’t even know what he was talking about. But something secret he thought I was in on. That I knew about. I know I sound out of my mind right now. So of course the fables the waiter just spun seem to align with the odd conversation I heard last night.”
“I think you need more caffeine. Need I remind you that you had plenty of wine by that time of night?”
I laugh but know that part of the night was clear in my mind. Thankfully, our waiter arrives with our orders and I shove food in my mouth so I don’t need to explain further. I sip on my coffee while running through everything from last night. Did I actually hear everything correctly? Or maybe it was a difference in language.
“What are you dreaming about, Isa?”
“Sorry. I didn't hear - what did you say?”
“I was asking if you want another coffee. I’ll take that to mean you need an espresso, probably a double shot.”