My sisters and my baby brother danced about the house, whispering to each other excitedly about the coming of der Belznickel on that snowy December 5th evening, the day before the Feast of Saint Nicholas. According to the stories, the good Saint Nicholas chains up the Devil on the eve of his Birthday – December 6th -- and makes him visit all of the children in the village to see if they have been behaving themselves and deserved the attention of Kirstkindel. Those who are good will receive gifts, but those who are naughty…. Well, those children who do not know their prayers or their school recitations or who have been troublesome at home might find themselves whipped with der Belznickel’s switch or tied up with his chains; and they will receive coal in their stockings instead of presents.
Of course, I did not participate in the excited whispering or silly romping of the youngsters. I was above such foolishness, having turned twelve on my last birthday. Instead, I peeled potatoes in the kitchen to help meine Muter with dinner. I heard several pairs of feet stampeding up the stairs and shaking the floorboards over my head and sighed a little at all the dramatics. Just then, someone tugged on my skirt, and I looked down at Hans, my three-year-old brother.
“Gretel, will der Belznickel come tonight?” he asked me, his huge blue eyes wide with anxiety. I scooped him up into my arms and gave him a reassuring hug.
“Yes Hans, he will come tonight,” I told him. And he would too. I had seen Uncle Oskar stashing a dark costume – consisting of raggedy fur-trimmed black clothes, a headband with goat-horns glued to the top, a long whippy switch, and a thick, rattling chain – in the empty stall in the barn about an hour before sunset. Right after dinner, Uncle Oskar would duck out to “see to the horses” and a few moments later, der Belznickel would make his visit to see if we children had been good enough to receive the attentions of Saint Nicholas tomorrow.
“Will he have a switch and chains? Will he tie us up?” Hans asked.
“Der Belznickel only ties up naughty little boys and girls. But you have been good, so you do not need to worry,” I said. I put him down and he scampered off upstairs to talk to Inga and my other sisters while I finished the potatoes.
There were fourteen of us at dinner that night – Muter, Vater, my four sisters and three brothers, Uncle Oskar, Aunt Helga, their two children, and me. As the oldest child, I watched over the others and made sure that the babies got fed. Then Uncle Oskar slipped out to “feed the horses” and the grown-ups exchanged happy grins over the little children’s heads.
The first sign that “der Belznickel” was approaching was a loud, rude banging on the front windows. Hans and Inga screamed when a soot-covered face with long black whiskers was pressed against the glass. Then the front door burst opened and der Belznickel rumbled into the parlor, rattling his chains. The children cowered and whimpered and screamed half in fear and half in delight at the raggedy creature with his goat’s horns and bag full of something – was it candy or coal? The answer depended on what happened next!
Der Belznickel made all of us – even me – line up in a row in our parlor. Starting with me, we began to answer whatever questions he asked us. He rattled his switch at me and made me quote the Scripture passage from last Sunday’s church service. Martin – the next oldest – recited a poem he had memorized for school. And on down the line. Every time we got an answer right, der Belznickel would stomp about in rage because he hadn’t tricked us, and the little ones would squeal.
I was distracted from Uncle Oskar’s antics by a strange flickering in the lantern light. Something was wrong with Uncle Oskar’s shadow. I began watching his shadow as he made Ludwig recite next. When Uncle Oskar lunged one way, the shadow went the opposite way. As I watched, it lifted the chains over its head. The shadow’s hands seemed impossibly long, and the fingers looked more like claws. I shivered, chills running over my skin. The horns on the shadows head were very sharp, and the legs impossibly long. Then the shadow broke away from Uncle Oskar completely, just as Ludwig finished his recitation. While the grownups and children all cheered for Ludwig’s success, the shadow slid over the wall like oil and coiled up near the ceiling. Then it opened glowing yellow eyes and looked straight at me.
YOU ARE READING
Scary Stories
HorrorI decided to write a book about scary stories, however these stories are not written by me. Enjoy!
