I love a good Christmas story.The kind where something strange and wonderful happens out in the wilderness. Where the magic of the season reaches places most people never go. Where even the darkest corners of the forest feel touched by something warm and old and meaningful.Over the years, I’ve to...
I love a good Christmas story.
The kind where something strange and wonderful happens out in the wilderness. Where the magic of the season reaches places most people never go. Where even the darkest corners of the forest feel touched by something warm and old and meaningful.Over the years, I’ve told you stories like that.
Stories of Sasquatch sightings on snowy December mornings.
Of mysterious gifts left on remote cabin doorsteps.
Of unexplained tracks leading to and from places where no tracks should exist at all.But tonight, friends, I’m not here to warm your heart.Tonight, I’m here to freeze your blood.
South Carolina. 1985.
A young insurance adjuster named Gerald Hutchins inherits a remote cabin deep in the forest from his great-uncle Amos. The old man had lived alone out there for more than twenty years, and the family whispered that he came back from the war… changed. Haunted. Given to muttering in languages no one recognized. Drawing strange symbols he would immediately burn in the fireplace.Gerald decides the cabin would be the perfect place to spend Christmas with his wife, Ellen, and their thirteen-year-old son, Marcus.
A real holiday, he tells them. The kind they used to have before television and convenience took over. Just a family, a fire, and the quiet peace of the winter woods.What Gerald doesn’t tell them is what he found when he first visited the cabin alone.The chains hanging above the fireplace.
The birch switches stained dark with something he didn’t want to examine too closely.
And the mask. A horrible wooden mask with hollow eyes and a grin carved with far too many teeth.He doesn’t tell them about the sound he heard coming from the second floor.
The sound of hooves on hardwood. As Christmas Eve settles in, the temperature drops and the snow begins to fall. And the Hutchins family will learn that some traditions are older than Christianity. Some punishments are older than coal in a stocking. And some things that were meant to stay in the old country followed our ancestors across the ocean—hiding in the shadows of their ships, waiting patiently for the right moment to remind us that the old ways never truly died.
They just learned how to wait.Long before Santa Claus became the jolly gift-giver we know today, the winter solstice was a time of fear as much as celebration in the Alpine regions of Europe. While Saint Nicholas rewarded good children, his dark companion dealt with the rest.
Krampus. Half-goat. Half-demon. All nightmare. A creature with curved horns, a serpentine tongue, chains forged in hellfire, and birch switches for the wicked. A basket on its back to carry its prizes away—down to whatever hell it called home.
Krampusnacht, celebrated on December fifth, saw young men dress as the creature and roam the streets, terrorizing towns. But the oldest stories—the ones whispered long before costumes—spoke of something far older than men in masks. A being that existed before Christianity tried to tame it. A being that still walks the winter forests when nights grow long and the barriers between worlds wear thin.A being that always comes back.
Content Warning:
This episode contains intense horror imagery, supernatural violence, and themes involving harm to a family, including a child. Listener discretion is strongly advised. This one is not for the faint of heart—and absolutely not for little ones. I’ve spent a long time telling stories about strange things in the woods. Bigfoot encounters. Unexplained phenomena. Creatures that linger just beyond the firelight. Even the scariest of those stories often carry a strange warmth—a sense that whatever’s out there might be mysterious, might be frightening, but isn’t necessarily evil.This story is different. This story is about something very evil.
Something that has been doing terrible things to humanity for a very long time.
Something that doesn’t care about your Christmas spirit, your good intentions, or your prayers.I wanted to tell this story because I think we’ve sanitized our holidays. We’ve forgotten that our ancestors celebrated the winter solstice not just with feasts and gifts—but with rituals meant to protect them from the darkness. They understood something we’ve chosen to forget.The longest night of the year is the longest for a reason.
So as you listen, maybe keep a candle burning.
Maybe check the locks on your doors.
And if you hear something on the roof that sounds a little too heavy to be reindeer…Well. You know what to do.
.Until next time…Sweet dreams.And Merry Christmas. 🎄