 A wave from a stranger the poor ladies ran, Lid to young girls run as fast as you can, The stalker is coming to seal your farewell, From this mortal coil on earth to fiery hell. Hello children, it's Santa with another edition of Spooky Santa, and I have some more great stories to share with you. I'll tell a Christmas story of two teenage girls named Isabella and Chloe, and they are stalked by a dangerous murderer. I have a very creepy tale to tell by Andrea Stanet called The Tradition, but first, I'll tell you a bit more about everybody's favorite Christmas monster, Krampus, and remember, if you want to write a scary story of your own, you can email it to lettersatspookiesanta.com, and I can read your story in an upcoming episode. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, pour a mug of hot cocoa, it's magic you know, and come with Spooky Santa for another holiday chiller. Most everyone has heard of Krampus, a legendary creature from Austrian and Hungarian folklore who is associated with Christmas. On Christmas Eve, while I hand out the presents, Krampus deals out the punishment to all the boys and girls on my naughty list. Krampus gets his name from the old German word for claw. In Austria, I'm called Saint Nicholas, and my helper is a terrifying demon named Krampus who travels with me on Christmas Eve. Krampus is a red-faced goat-horned demon. He's covered in shaggy black fur. He has chains hanging from his body, and he rings a large cowbell. He has a long, waggling red tongue, a tail, and he carries a big stick and a large black bag. On Christmas Eve, Austrian children place their shoes on the windowsill or outside their bedroom door, and while they sleep, me and Krampus we creep in and visit the house. If those kids have been very good, well, I leave candy and treats in those shoes. But if they've been bad, Krampus beats them with his stick. And if they've been really bad, Krampus puts them in his black sack and carries those children off and throws them in a river. Just imagine, Christmas Eve, and you've just finished watching a Christmas movie with your family or singing Christmas carols by the fireside. You're settling down to sleep when suddenly an enormous shaggy monster with horns burst into your bedroom, dragging chains and ringing a bell. He attacks you and beats you over the head with a stick while you scream for your parents to help you. And then he stuffs you into his bag and kidnaps you as your parents stand by and do nothing. And finally, he throws you into a river and drowns you. All of that because you didn't behave yourself during the year. The legend of Krampus became so popular that his story spread throughout Europe. It became especially popular in Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Croatia, and Northern Italy. And today, Krampus Day is celebrated on December 5th. In country towns, some men dress up in furs, heavy boots and ghoulish masks topped with horns so they can look like Krampus. And then they carry sticks and ring bells and they go around town visiting the houses of families with small children. When their parents open the door, the men run in and terrorize the children. They start growling and whipping the air with their sticks. The children scream and cry, but after everybody's had a good fright, the parents invite those men to sit down and have a drink. I even received emails from some children talking about their experiences with Krampus. If you'd like to email me, you can do so at Letters at SpookySanta.com. Kristoff sent me an email about his experience with Krampus. He said, I'm from originally Austria and I spent many years as a child being chased around town by Krampus. It's one of the scariest experiences you can have as a child growing up in Austria. It's also one of the biggest adrenaline rushes because the danger is quite real. Once Krampus saw my friends and I and he began to chase us. We jumped fences and we ran through backyards and Krampus just kept coming after us. And when he catches you, he usually gives you a pretty good whooping around your legs and yes, it hurts. It's also really scary. I can never forget that terror as a child. Nina also sent me an email saying, I'm Austrian and quite familiar with Krampus since I got beaten by him several times in my childhood. And Gavin emailed me saying, my family lived in Germany when I was young. My siblings and I had the opportunity to meet Krampus every Christmas. It was truly terrifying as a kid. Krampus would come into our house. We were lined up as he asked us questions about how good or bad we had been all year. Krampus had a big bag full of kids with legs and arms sticking out that would actually move around and whimper. Krampus would walk over and whack the bag with a whip. Oh man, we didn't want to end up in that bag. Boy, maybe I should stop traveling with Krampus every year. I mean, just when you thought Christmas was the one time of year that wouldn't be scary, along comes Krampus. Speaking of scary, I have another story to share. This one is called Girls Night Out. Isabella and Chloe were two typical American teenage girls. After school, they spent all of their time together watching scary movies, having sleepovers, shopping for new clothes. They liked partying, keeping up with their friends, having fun and just enjoying life. They had no way of knowing the horrible fate that life had in store for them. One night, Isabella and Chloe decided to have a Girls Night Out. They planned to sneak out to a nightclub as soon as their parents went to sleep. Isabella kissed her parents goodnight and went upstairs to bed as she usually did. When she thought everybody had finally gone to sleep, she took out her cell phone, called her friend Chloe and told her to meet her at the store down the street. Chloe agreed and hung up. Isabella quietly opened her bedroom window trying not to wake anybody. After all, she was sneaking out and she wasn't supposed to. She stepped out onto the windowsill and climbed down the drain pipe. As she walked down the deserted street, she got a strange feeling that she was being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up. She glanced behind her, but no, she was alone. When she came to the corner store, there was nobody around, so she took out her cell phone and called Chloe. Okay, I'm at the store, she said, hurry up or I'm going home. What's wrong? asked Chloe. I don't know, replied Isabella. This just doesn't feel like other nights. Something isn't right. I've got a bad vibe. Stop it. You're just being paranoid. Laughed Chloe. I'll be there in two minutes. Isabella hung up the phone, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone or something was watching her. Five minutes later, Chloe turned up and the two girls walked together to the nightclub. The girls were too young to get into the club, but the bouncers never asked them for an ID. They strolled inside and pretty soon they were dancing to the music and flirting with guys on the dance floor. Around 3 a.m. Isabella was chatting to a really cute guy who must have been at least 10 years older than her. Suddenly, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. It was a text message from her ex-boyfriend, Anthony. She hadn't heard from him since they broke up a month ago, and the text read, come outside. I've got a huge surprise for you. Curious, she looked around and saw Chloe busy talking to some other man. So, without saying goodbye, Isabella walked out the door of the nightclub. She had only taken a few steps when she received another text message. It read, meet you around the corner over by the dumpster. The street was dimly lit and deserted. Isabella had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something didn't feel right, but she told herself she was just being stupid, just being overly cautious. Inside the nightclub, Chloe was looking for her friend. After waiting for 15 minutes, she began to grow impatient. She scanned the dance floor, but there was no sign of Isabella. She even checked the restrooms, but they were empty. At 3 a.m. 27 a.m., a relieved Chloe finally got a text from her friend Isabella, and it read, meet me outside now, hurry. When Chloe got outside, she received another text. I'm around the corner over by the dumpster. Come watch me sparkle. Chloe followed the directions, crossing the dark and lonely street. When she rounded the corner, she was confronted by a horrific sight. Her heart almost froze in her chest. Isabella was hanging upside down from a streetlight in the parking lot behind the dumpster. Sparkling Christmas tree lights were wrapped around her ankles. There was a large pool of blood below her. Her body was completely stripped of clothing, revealing deep wounds along her stomach and chest. Chloe fell to the ground and began screaming hysterically. Some people who were standing at the door of the nightclub heard her cries and came rushing over. When they turned the corner and saw Isabella's bloody corpse hanging in front of them, they too were horrified. The police were called, and they questioned Chloe for hours. Still, in a state of hysteria, she could barely talk. Solving uncontrollably, she told them how she and Isabella had snuck out that night and gone to the nightclub together. She tried to remember all of the guys they had spoke with and flirted with on the dance floor. They asked her if she knew of anybody who would want to harm Isabella, but, well, Chloe couldn't think of anyone. As much as she wanted to catch Isabella's killer, she was of no help to the investigation. During the interrogation, one of the cops produced a plastic bag and took out a blood-stained envelope. We found this lodged in your friend's throat, and it's addressed to you, said the cop, as he handed her the envelope. The name Chloe was scrolled across the front of the envelope. With trembling hands, she took out the piece of paper inside and read it, and the letter said, maybe if you stayed in bed like you were supposed to, things like this wouldn't happen. Don't go sneaking around at night. Bad things could happen. The cops had to grab her before she fainted, and ambulance took Chloe to the hospital and she was treated for shock. When Chloe returned home the next day, she was still shaken up. Her parents told her that Isabella's ex-boyfriend, Anthony, had been arrested for murder. He was later released after passing a lie detector test, though. He claimed his phone had been stolen on the day of the murder. The police didn't rule him out as a suspect in the case, but they didn't have enough evidence to charge him, either. As fate would have it, Isabella's murder would remain unsolved. Nobody was ever brought to the trial for the crime, and as time went on, people began to forget about it. Two years had passed, and Chloe had almost managed to forget about the terrible night when her best friend had been savagely murdered. One night, she called her boyfriend and asked him to meet her at the park. It was about 2 a.m. She began to walk to the park, but she felt a strange presence, just like the woman Isabella had told her about the night she was murdered. She was almost to the park when that feeling came across her, so she let it go. And her phone beat. It was a text message from her boyfriend. Almost there, baby, love you lots, it said. It made her feel much better. Her last task was to pass by the store. The park was on the other side. She began to walk, but she heard something behind her, and immediately she began to run. Her boyfriend got to the park and waited for about 15 minutes. At 2.35 a.m., he got a text from Chloe and had read, Keep walking forward and you will see me. He did as the text suggested and walked forward. And there, hanging upside down from a tree, was the mutilated body of Chloe. Christmas tree lights were wrapped around her ankles and she was completely naked and covered in blood. Exactly the way Isabella had been found two years earlier. Her boyfriend called the police and he was interrogated all night. The next day when Chloe's boyfriend got home, there was a letter waiting for him on his parents' doorstep. It was stained with small drops of blood. And the note inside read, Don't go sneaking around at night. Bad things can happen. I wish I could tell you that the murders of Isabella and Chloe were finally solved, but sadly that's just not the case. Today, the police say the investigation is still ongoing, but they don't have any new leads. The murders are seldom spoken about nowadays. They were high profile cases at the time, but due to the strange lack of evidence, people soon forgot about them. Everyone who was involved went on with their lives. You might be wondering how I know so much about these cases. Well, I'd rather not go into it. Considering it is still an ongoing investigation. If you must know, I was the police officer who was assigned to the case. I was the cop who handed Chloe the blood stained letter. You may also be wondering why the murders were never solved. Well, like I always say, Don't go sneaking around at night. Bad things can happen. Sounds like the murderer was the police officer himself. Not a very good story at all. But then again, it does teach a lesson. Do not sneak out at night because bad things can happen. My final story is from Andrea Stanet, and it's called The Tradition. They left her alone in the woods. After all she had done to convince her family to take their annual Christmas trip up to their cabin in the Catskills, they had left her alone. And now the sun was going down. Rachelle Chew was perfectly safe in the family's semi-rustic cabin. Every Christmas vacation since she was born, she, her mom, dad, and brother Mark took a retreat. They'd arrive on Christmas Eve, play music, drink cocoa, tell Christmas stories, and decorate. Never in 13 years had there been a problem. If anything, the problem was her family's attitudes. The rule had always been no phones, no computers, no television, strictly family time. But when it had come time for planning this year's trip, dad wanted a staycation so he could work from home. And Mark, now a high school senior, he was obsessed with, well, himself. Even mom turned a bit rocky. Wouldn't it be nice to go to a ski resort for a change? We always snowboard at the cabin. You guys can't just go changing family traditions, Rachelle said. The ride upstate from Westchester had stunk. It was bad enough dad and Mark grumbled about cutting down a tree. The tradition was they had a live one every year. What was the big deal? Then mom suggested they buy a fake tree with LED lights. No, what's wrong with you people? Mark can't wait to get away from us and go away to college. And dad, all you ever think about is your stupid job. And you, she hissed at her mother from the back seat. Five minutes without your phone and you're going into convulsions. You're all ruining Christmas Eve. With that, Rachelle, also known as Rocky by her family, burst into tears and refused to talk to anyone for the duration of the ride. Once the car was unpacked, dad and Mark cut down the tree and then they and mom left for the 10 mile drive into town for food and supplies. Well, now that Rocky was alone with the eight foot pine tied up in the living room, she regretted fighting with her family. If they were ruining Christmas, well, she wasn't helping at all. They just didn't get it. All she wanted was for her family to be together for Christmas, really together. Not just occupying the same space at the same time while still ignoring each other. They all thought she was weird because she preferred to talk to her friends in person instead of spending hours texting or video chatting. And she'd rather play outside than online. What's wrong with that girl? A fire blazed in the fireplace. Rocky considered curling up in front of it with a blanket, her Kindle and her thermos of hot chocolate with her. But now that she was alone, she felt guilty and strangely uneasy as if forcing everyone to stick to tradition had been a terrible idea. Maybe everyone would forgive her if she made all the beds. Leaving her things on one of the two love seats that faced each other, she found the plastic bins with all the linens. She walked past the closet sized bathroom toward the back of the cabin where her and Mark's bedrooms were. She could see her breath as she moved around the beds and small dressers in each room. Twenty minutes later, each of the downstairs beds were heaped with several layers of blankets. Rocky stopped at the bathroom before heading up to her parents loft. She gathered her mane of black curls and tamed them into a messy bun that she secured with a hair tie kept around her wrist. She inspected her dark brown face to see if the zit that she'd been fighting was any smaller. It wasn't. Zipping her green fleece up to her chin, she went to finish her task. Balancing the bedding in front of her, she climbed the ladder to the loft. She spread the sheets in comforter over the king sized futon. As she fluffed pillows in the lavender scented cases, she heard a scratch on the roof. Probably a bird or a squirrel. Dad paid landscapers to make sure the tree line was well away from the cabin so if any trees did fall they wouldn't wreck the house. Holding still, Rocky continued to listen. Downstairs, the fire logs shifted. The following silence pressed in on her. The back of her neck prickled. Whatever she'd heard, it must have gone away. She climbed back down the ladder. Her foot reached the bottom rung when a thud made her jump. Had the noise come from the roof or the side of the house? She glanced around, alert and breathing faster now, straining to hear anything going on outside. Why had she insisted on leaving to sell phones in the car's glove compartment? Oh, right, she had insisted on the unplugged version of their vacation. After a minute, she made a dash across the living room to the kitchenette and picked up the landline to call her parents. She should call the police. No, they probably assumed she was being funny or dumb. It didn't matter, she realized there was no dial tone anyway. Goose bumps broke out over her arms. What was going on? She rummaged through a drawer until she found the large carving knife. Curling her fingers around the handle, she weighed the weapon. Reconsidering, she placed it on the counter. This is ridiculous. Her family was fond of pranks. They must have parked down the road to mess with her as revenge for dragging them here. Oh, stop scaring yourself, Rocky, she said to herself. It had to be her family, because as far as she knew, there was no one else in the area who would be around the cabin. About a mile to the east, a middle-aged couple kept to themselves. A half mile down the road to the west, set a farmhouse, abandoned and sent him to a nursing home. Maybe somebody was staying there illegally. Crossing back to the love seat, Rocky pulled a set of earbuds from her pocket. When Mark tried to scare her, she would simply ignore him. She dropped onto the couch and scrolled through her audiobook collection. She snuggled under her blanket and settled on a John Green short story collection. As one finger poised to tap play, a crash at the front door startled her. Her kindle bounced to the couch, earbuds ripped out of her ears and the thermos toppled to the floor. That's it, she muttered, flinging the blanket off. She shouted at the door as she stomped her way toward it. Mark, if you don't cut it out, I'll tell mom what you and Gail have been up to after school. Expecting to see a snowball flying at her, she threw the door wide open ready to duck. She saw her lights lighting the edges of the property cast a pale glow along the driveway and the porch light shone down over her head. Hello. Black eyes met hers and thin lips art into a razor-sharp grin. A bronze-skinned boy about her age with spiky, jet-black hair balanced on one foot, bracing himself against the wall was twisted at a weird angle. Rocky stepped back. She glanced behind the boy at the path that led to the porch steps. She hadn't heard any engines but she couldn't see any skis or snowshoes either. Through the front lawn and beyond the log fence surrounding the yard the snow was smooth and clean. Untouched. No footprints. Who are you? Her fingers grasped the edge of the door. You are not welcome here, she said. His gaze shifted to the tree lying on its side and the boy scowled, you must leave tonight. Excuse me? This is private property. You need to get out of here. Rapid fire bangs in the back of the house as loud as a machine gun seized Rocky's attention. She slammed the door and locked it behind her and in five quick strides she ganked the curtains aside. Motion activated lights flooded the backyard and Rocky froze. Over a hundred crows glared at her from the snow-covered lawn. Long seconds ticked by as she and the birds just stared at each other. Slowly she eased the curtain shut and retreated from the room closing the bedroom door. After a pause she secured Mark's room as well. Whatever this was it was no prank. Confused she went back to the front window and peeked out. The driveway lights illuminated dozens of cold colored shapes perched silently along the fence. Shadows against the crystalline sheen of snow. Although there was no wind tree branches rustled ominously across the road. Icy fingers chilled Rocky's spine. Heart thumping she crept a knife from the counter and checked the time on the oven display. Mom, Dad and Mark wouldn't be back for at least another hour. She couldn't just sit here waiting surrounded by these weird birds. She'd go crazy if she hadn't already. She eyed the front door. It would be insane to go out there. The worst thing she could possibly do. Rocky checked outside one last time telling herself nothing to be afraid of and she cracked the door open. The strange boy was gone. Still she felt beady black eyes tracking her every movement. Knife in hand she stepped onto the threshold and breathed in a frosty shuttering breath. She opened her mouth to speak. Outside the trees erupted. The crows along the fence burst into the air. Thousands of specter like bodies swarmed inside from every direction. Glass rained into the house. Wood splintered. Talons shredded the curtains. Each slice a ragged scream. A cyclone of wings and beaks forced Rocky inside. She tried to find refuge behind the couch. She crouched and covered her head slashing at the crows with the knife. They pecked and clawed and engulfed her. An angry soundtrack to the destruction. She shrieked against the onslaught. Stop! Why are you doing this? Everything went silent. Finally she looked up. Glass shards covered the floor in furniture. Black feathers floated in the air. Scratches and punctures scored her exposed skin. Rocky's face, arms and hands stung. She felt her face. Blood smeared over the pads of her stiff fingers and dripped down her cheek. The crows were gone except for one silhouetted in the open doorway. It had a twisted leg. Snow whisked up the porch steps and swirled around the bird. It grew. Feathers smoothing and solidifying disappearing into the form of the boy. She now noticed the solid black snow gear that he wore. She held the knife out in front of her. Limping, he advanced on her. You plan to stick me with that knife? I don't know. Are you going to make me? He stopped a few feet away and his lips curved into a cruel smile. Stupid humans think you own the whole world. Every year you people come here and destroy our homes. Every year we have to find new places to live. Her voice shook and tears streamed down her cheeks. What are you talking about? We just come here to have family time. We've never destroyed. The arch of one inky eyebrow stopped her as she recalled his earlier look of disgust. Her gut clenched. The trees of Christmas trees and how many trees had the landscapers cut down. His lips curled. Yours. Your trees. Our homes. He cocked his head. Get out of here human. Never disrupt our homes again. Next time you won't be spared. His arms stretched wide as his body shrank down to his crow form. With a blink and a whoosh he took flight. I'm sorry I didn't know. An uncaring breeze swallowed her words. With shaking hands Rocky shot the door. Returned the knife to the counter and bandaged her wounds before settling in front of the fire to wait for her family to return. She was curled up under the blankets when she heard a car engine rev. Tires screeched to a stop. Rapid popping like Heelstones hit the car in a meter sit up and turned toward the noise. What now? A green chilled Rocky to the bone. Mom? Mom, Dad and Mark shouted as footsteps thundered up the port stairs. The door smacked the wall behind it. Her family flung themselves inside. A cloud of crows pecked at them before flying out again. Dad slammed the door. His chest heaved and his eyes were wide. What on earth? White down feathers poked out of his jacket. Leading across the door, staring into space with his mouth gaping, Mark looked worse. Scratches crisscrossed his face and blood dripped down one of his cheeks. Rocky? Mom yelled. Baby, what? She lurched over and crushed Rocky in a hug. Hundreds of crows came out of nowhere. No reason. I don't understand. Her hair stuck up in every direction. She sobbed against Rocky's shoulder. There was a reason, Mom. Rocky secured the door. They're mad that we cut down their homes. We have to leave. I know it sounds crazy but you saw them. Doesn't matter. Right now we need to get out of here. Dad was already in the kitchen picking up the knife Rocky had used to defend herself. Throwing a blanket over their heads, Mom held her close while Dad and Mark protected their sides. Huddled awkwardly together, they rushed to the car. A crack ran across the rear driver's side window. They closed and locked the doors, leaving everything behind and raced toward the safety of home. Crows lined the way, darkly dotting the tops of mailboxes, road signs, and street lights. Just before the car turned onto the highway, one large bird swooped in front of the windshield with a loud call. A crow with a twisted foot. Rocky recounted all that happened at the cabin. Unable to deny what they had all experienced, they eagerly discussed selling the cabin where they had spent so many happy times. The cabin where so many family traditions had begun. In unison, Mark, Mom and Dad finally looked at her. Rocky? Yeah, she said, trying to fix her hair and regain some semblance of normalcy. I'm thinking some things make better memories than traditions. Maybe we start a new holiday tradition. This time with fewer pine trees and more palm trees. Well, I must admit, having Christmas with palm trees around does sound very nice. In fact, I might have to do that once I'm done with my rounds on Christmas Eve. What a nice vacation that would be. Hey, did you like the stories I told? If so, please do Santa a favor and tell your friends and family members about the Spooky Santa podcast. That way they can listen to and remember you can write your own scary story and email it to me at letters at SpookySanta.com If you want to learn more about the stories I've told or the authors who wrote them, you can find links in this episode's show notes. Spooky Santa is a registered trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright Marlar House Productions 2019 And now be a good little boy or girl and join me next time for more creepy tales from Spooky Santa.