Krampus

 In the dying days of November/when the sun sets early and nights are long/when the cold starts to settle at the eve of winter/and heralding the final month of the year/on the edges of the night/in the settled silence/among the inky shadows cast by trees/comes the glint of dark eyes reflecting moonlight/the faint sound of almost animalistic breathing/and a murky sense of dread/a shadow deeper and darker than those around it/the dying tendrils of breath condensation fading beneath the moonlight/the silence gets heavier, settles deeper/and a bone-aching chill spreads slowly/a breeze shifts/bells and chains clank beneath the silence/he lurks in the endless night/watching and waiting as the moonlight fades/his hooves crunch in the snow/damped by the depth of the silence/he is nearly indiscernible in the growing darkness/his large figure looming/a full height of eight feet/with legs of a goat, ending in cloven hooves/broad shoulders beneath a heavy cloak/his lean arms wrapped in chains/with bits of branches twined through them/some ending in bells/hands and nails encrusted with dirt/a bag slung over a shoulder/a whip curled at his waist/bearded at chin, neck, and upper chest/a beard that would otherwise cover thin lips/lips opened wide to reveal yellowed teeth/a red, pointed tongue standing out against his dark beard/above his sunken cheeks angry eyes glare out/framed by matted dark hair/from which two horns curl out from above his ears/rigid circles bigger than his head/curled upon themselves twice/his figure looming from the shadows/watching, waiting for the misbehaved, depraved, and terrible/his eerie grin widening upon knowing the amount of fear he can instill in the hearts of the terrible/finding them in the darkest winter nights…