The next morning, I was up before dawn, determined to get a fresh batch of cookies baked without any more help.

I wanted to stick to the basics, no gingerbread spells, no hasty rising incantations. Just me and my trusty old oven.

As I Took note of my ingredients, I couldn't help but feel that familiar twinge of nerves.

The cookie contest might seem like a lighthearted event, but here in Raven’s Bluff, it was serious business. Veritable intergalactic wars had been started over it.

I glanced out the kitchen window. The fog had rolled in thick over the harbor, as it always did this time of year, and there was a fresh layer of clean white snow on everything.

The lighthouse beacon cut through the mist, casting an eerie glow over the docks, which was just visible from my front window where I loved to sit and read.

It was one of those mornings where the line between past and present seemed to blur. The kind where you could almost hear the creak of old pirate ships or the distant whispers of long-gone sailors.

Raven’s Bluff had a way of holding onto its history, as if the town itself didn’t want to let go of the stories it had collected over the centuries.

“Okay, Nora. Focus,” I muttered to myself, kneading the dough with renewed energy.

As I worked, my mind wandered back to the strange things that had been happening in town. Everyone had their theories about the vandalism and pranks.

Some blamed the rowdy teenagers from the next town over, others whispered about long-forgotten curses tied to the sea. But most people seemed convinced it was the Perchten.

I rolled my eyes at the thought. The Perchten was just a folk tale, an old story meant to scare kids into behaving during the holidays.

A mischievous creature dressed as a Christmas elf, going around causing chaos. It didn’t make any sense, but that didn’t stop the gossip.

Just last night at the bakery, Mrs. Claus had gone on about how she saw someone dressed as the Perchten creeping around her shop.

Of course, Mrs. Claus also swore she saw a pirate ghost once, so I tended to take her stories with a grain of salt.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that nagging feeling that something was stirring beneath the surface this year.

Maybe it was just the holiday stress.

Perhaps, it was just nerves at the looming contest.

Or maybe, just maybe, there actually was something strange going on in our little town. Something more than burnt cookies and broken ornaments.

Just as I was about to pop the first tray of cookies into the oven, there was a sharp knock at the front door. My heart skipped a beat. No one visited this early unless there was a good reason.

Stolen story; please report.

I wiped my hands on my apron and headed to the door, opening it to find a rather cold and serious looking Officer Harris standing on my porch.

Harris often looked serious most of the time. However this time, he looked unusually serious, his brow furrowed beneath the brim of his police cap.

It was either that or he was constipated. An unfortunate side effect of eating at Joe McGill’s Mexican Crab Shack.

That’s actually how I first met Harris. Poor guy, my bathroom has never been the same since that fateful day.

“Morning, Nora,” he said, tipping his hat. “Sorry to bother you so early.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to read the expression on his face.

“There’s been… an incident,” he said, pausing like he wasn’t sure how to continue. “It seems like someone broke into your shop last night and stole a bunch of your display…”

The world seemed to tilt for a moment as his words sunk in. My stomach sank. “What do you mean, broke in?”

My face flushed hot for a moment and I stepped back letting in Harris, as I took a seat in my front hall.

“I’m sorry, Nora. I know this is a shock,” Harris continued, his voice softer now. “We’re still trying to figure out what happened, but it’s a real mess. The whole town’s buzzing about it. I need you to come down to the shop and answer a few questions and see what all was taken.”

I sighed, untying my apron from around my waist and put my jacket on to go with Harris.

The holidays always brought an extra layer of stress to Vanhorn’s Cookies and Crumble, but I loved it.

Well at least normally I did, this was the first time anything like this had happened to me.

Christmas in Raven’s Bluff was a magical time, even without the kind of magic people whisper about around here.

The whole town transformed into a postcard with twinkling lights strung along every street and wreaths hung on every door.

Even that old lighthouse at the edge of town, the one people swore was haunted, got a garland.

But this year had a shadow hanging over it, and it wasn’t just the broken window display.

The Perchten, that trouble making little pest, had been up to his antics again. No one knew who he was or where he came from, but he’d been causing all sorts of problems around town these past few weeks.

Decorations had been ripped down, storefronts broken into and vandalized, Christmas displays ruined. Now, he had hit my shop, having smashed in the front window in the middle of the night and had made off with the entire cookie display. To say that the police were not amused, would be a gross understatement.

“So you're telling me,” Harris said, running a hand through his short, dark hair as he surveyed the mess, “that someone broke in to your shop... Just to steal a few cookies?”

“Seems like it,” I replied, as I swept the shards of glass into a dustpan. “But those cookies are as hard as a rock. Whoever took them is in for a sore jaw.”

“Or maybe they just wanted to cause trouble,” he grumbled under his breathe. “Do you think this could have been that Perchten character?”

I shrugged, but it wasn’t hard to guess. “Do you any ideas? Who else would it be? Everyone else in town has better things to do than messing with gingerbread at four in the morning.”

He gave me a long, skeptical look, the same one he’d been giving me since he moved here from Miami. Small-town life clearly didn’t agree with him. Too slow, too quiet, too much history tied up in old legends like ours.

But I could tell he was trying to make it work, even if he still thought the Perchten was just some prankster, not the walking nightmare some people swore he was.

“Well, I’ll make a report,” Harris said, pulling out his notepad. “But don’t expect much. If this really is that elf, he’s been slipping through our fingers for weeks. No one’s even caught a glimpse of him.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what good a report would do. The Perchten wasn’t your average vandal, if he was even human at all.

There was a reason people were starting to get nervous. Christmas was supposed to be a time of goodwill, but with this troublemaker on the loose, Raven’s Bluff was more on edge than ever.

“At least the stolen cookies weren’t much of a loss. They’d have broken someone’s teeth if they tried to eat them. Perhaps you should keep an eye on the local dentists for someone who tried to eat a cinder block.” I joked.

I glanced out the broken window, the mist rolling through the snow covered streets, and I couldn’t help but to wonder what kind of trouble was really brewing this holiday season.