Krampus (Pt. 1)

The winter had come early to Frankfurt that year. The wind howled outside in the dark of the night. Snow had fallen and covered the cobbled streets and brick buildings in the most delicate layer. Father gathered my brother and me into the sitting room that Christmas Eve and told us he needed our help. My brother and I were surprised when we saw a brand new piano forte sitting so beautifully by the brightly decorated Christmas tree.

“We will have music again boys! Now help me surprise mother!” Father said excitedly.

My brother and I sat on the shiny piano bench, snorting as we held in our excited laughter. We heard father coming down the stairs, leading mother who was blindfolded. She kept persisting he take it off so she could see, but he told her it was a surprise. He led her into the sitting room and placed her directly in front of the piano.

“Ready?” he asked, hardly able to contain himself. She nodded her head. He pulled the blindfold off. Mother exclaimed and clapped her hands, hardly able to do anything else but smile.

“Is this really for me?” she said turning around to father, tears in her eyes.

“My darling, I would get you the world, but this was much easier to fit in the house,” he joked, softly kissing her hand.

She flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Oh, I do love you,” Mother whispered in his ear.

We were delighted to have such a piece of furniture in our city home. We had not had a piano for years and the lovely music my mother would play had disappeared from our minds. Amidst the many gifts under the tree that were quickly torn open and gawked at, our favorite gift was sitting around the piano after the festivities of the day had died down. Our visitors had left, the kitchen staff began to clean the dining room from the giant feast and the sun that had been seeping through the windows seemed to completely vanish. The glow of the candles from each window brought a certain warmth into the home that only grew as my mother so carefully at first laid her fingers on the piano keys. We sang carols and hymns and praises. We laughed and danced around the tree and the sitting room. My mother’s fingers began to move faster and faster as she filled with gumption and confidence. My father, tired from his dancing, fell into a chair, loosening his tie and running his fingers through his brown hair. He took his handkerchief out of his breast pocket to dab the sweat off of his face and watched mother plunk away at the keys. I had never seen his face light up as much as it did in that moment as he admired mother and her beautiful talent. He got up from the chair and slowly walked to her side, stooping down to press his lips against her cheek. Mother smiled and started to glow. That Christmas I learned where the real magic came from. My presents seemed distant and old, the wrapping paper was torn and ripped, but this moment was shiny and bright. Nothing could taint or sour the magic that took place in that room by our new piano. I felt warmth slowly spread from my head down to the soles of my feet even though the wind outside whipped against the walls and the snow had begun to fall again. As the evening grew late mother played us one last song.

“This one is for my boys," she told us. "Whenever you feel sad or lost.”

Her fingers lightly glided across from key to key as she played a beautiful lullaby. Her voice, soft and gentle, sung the words that seemed to make the world slow to a still, peaceful state. The yellow glow from the candles turned into tiny angels on each window sill, partaking in the joy and beauty of the moment. My mother finished playing.

“Now, off to bed,” she whispered, turning towards us and reaching her arms out. My brother and I stood up and raced into her arms. Our goodnight kisses were cut short when giant arms encircled us from behind and father groaned as he plucked us out of mother’s arms and carried us down the hall, pretending he was a monster. We heard mother coughing loudly just as father shut the door to hurry down the hall to her.

The house creaked from the wind that blew and carried a bellowing song down the chimney and through our fireplace. A large puff of soot shot forward and burst into a darkened cloud in the center of our room. Mother's coughing and retching grew louder. The floors shook above us as we listened to her body collapse on the ground.

The room grew cold. Colder than it ever had been. I laid in bed, my eyes wide open, my breath white against the black air. An ear pricking tap, tap, tap against the glass window by my bed broke the deafening silence.