Every December 25th, he feeds
Krampus sauntered through the blizzard, with his dirty burgundy sack hunched over his boney shoulders, as the moonlight of December 25th called to him. His hunger was insatiable.
The child inside the bag kicked him in the back of the leg again. Krampus turned and growled at it, and the thing quieted with a whimper. The wind blew his red hood back, revealing…