The Faces of Krampus

by Joe Moore

Overview

The Faces of Krampus - "Award Finalist in the Holidays category of the 2018 American Fiction Awards"

Angels, demons, elves, Santa Claus, flying horses, and other fantastic beings are all part of the North Pole and this book. The Faces of Krampus is based on the goings on of Black Peter and Santa Claus on the 5th of December. While much of the focus in December is toward Christmas, Santa also participates in the honoring and celebration of his relative St. Nicholas. That night Santa visits the good children of Europe bringing treats and goodies on his flying horse. But sometimes children are not behaving as they should.

So Santa Claus doesn't come alone.

Meet the bringer of punishments to naughty children. They call him by many names: Black Peter, Krampus, Pelznickel, Knecht Ruprecht, Hanstrapp, Black Pit, and more. But they all refer to the same person, the enforcer of St. Nicholas. A simple chimney sweep who was bullied and mistreated by others becomes the most feared being of winter.

But he has a problem of his own when the devil and his demon muscle in on Krampus' territory. Now the punisher of the Feast of St. Nicholas must now become the protector of those same children. And he is going to need help from on high to face the devil.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940163937516
Publisher:	The North Pole Press
Publication date:	08/08/2017
Sold by:	Draft2Digital
Format:	eBook
File size:	8 MB

About the Author

Fantasy, children's stories, suspense thrillers, Christian themes, family reads, folklore, all this, and more fall under author Joe Moore's purview. He can deftly take you from a seaside resort under attack to the North Pole where you will become a child again and discover a sense of wonder you thought long lost.

Living a fantasy life the last 15 years as Santa Claus, Moore has a unique perspective for writing stories involving the Jolly Old Elf and his elves. Whether discussing iconic toys or introducing the time continuum as a way to complete all Santa must on Christmas Eve, Moore speaks with authority and believability that will cause every reader to believe as they did when they were young.

For younger readers he spurs their imagination spinning tales in rhyme about Santa's elves and the importance each one has to the operation at the North Pole. At the end of each story he has Santa give them a unique message on how to stay on the nice list all year long.

And that same great imagination will have you searching the skies for danger from above, or attempting to figure out the time travel enigma that his characters perform skillfully visiting one period and civilization than another. Moore has over a dozen books in print and releases one or more each year. With his originality and inspiration, you never know what he will come out with next.

Why not join him on his journeys? It promises to be an exceptionally fun ride.

Book Publisher, Illustrator, Professional Mrs. Claus, Book Production and Designer, Website Manager, Mary wears a lot of hats and moves from project to project depending on the need.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

His true name is Petrus Schwarztale, which is German for Peter Black.

Peter's parents were not particularly attractive. In fact, the word ugly was used on more than one occasion when describing them. So when they had a child in 1752, that baby was exceptionally difficult to look at. As he grew, Peter's looks did not improve much. He had a pointed nose that curled down almost like a bird's beak. His chin came to a sharp point and this poor boy's ears not only came to a point but were so large they flopped over under their own weight.

His eyes were extremely dark, and it was difficult to distinguish any color in them beyond black. His large heavy brow always appeared to be scowling because his forehead couldn't prevent it. He had moles on his chin and forehead that would not be called beauty marks. Finally, he was much smaller than anyone else his age. His parents knew Peter would be lucky to reach five feet as an adult.

When he was able to attend the school he was continuously ridiculed and picked on. He wasn't even through his first full week when it happened.

“Hey ugly,” a boy a few years older and quite a bit larger than Peter yelled to him.

Peter ignored the boy and kept walking.

“You, you hideous looking troll!” the boy continued, “Why don't you crawl back under the rock you came from?”

“Leave me alone. I am not doing anything to you,” Peter said.

“Not true. Your ugliness is hurting my eyes!” At this, the other kids began to chortle. This seemed to spur the bully more and he walked up and shoved Peter to the ground.

Peter stood up and brushed himself off, saying nothing.

“Why bother cleaning yourself off? I think the dirt goes better with your ugly face,” the boy said and pushed him down again, this time into a mud puddle.

As his clothes were now soaked, Peter debated as to whether he should get up, or just stay on the wet ground to see if the boy would go away. As he was thinking this, the boy started moving toward Peter with fists clenched. Just as he started to pull his arm back, the schoolmaster began ringing the bell for class. The boy hesitated for a moment and then lowered his arm.

“You better not let me catch you after school. I will beat the ugliness right outta you!” the boy said loudly so everyone could hear. He then turned and moved toward the sound of the bell.

Peter pulled himself out of the puddle and tried his best to clean himself up. He moved to the door of the school and the headmaster pulled him aside and yelled at Peter, “What is the meaning of this? You look like a pig! How dare you come to my school looking like this. You are a disgrace.”

Peter tried to interject what had happened, but the schoolmaster wouldn't let him speak. The other children just giggled as Peter was admonished.

“You go home and don't show up here again until you are presentable. I do not allow pigs in my classroom.” He turned from Peter, herded the other children into the classroom quickly and closed the door.

Peter stood staring at the closed door for a moment and then returned home. When he told his mother what had taken place, she said she would have a word with the schoolmaster.

Peter looked horrified. “Please do not do that! I could tell in his eyes he did not want me there. He was not interested what happened, he just wanted me gone.”

His mother said, “Oh, Peter, you do not know that! He was probably in a hurry to get his class started. You are too hard on yourself.”

But deep down she suspected Peter might be right. She thought she might wait and see if this happened again before going to the schoolhouse.

The very next day was a repeat of what happened, adding a bloody nose to the event, he was told by the headmaster to go home and not return.

He said to Peter, “You are too much of a distraction for the other children. How can I be expected to try and teach them if they are focusing their attention on you?”

The year was 1761. Education was not as advanced, although Peter now at age nine still desired to read, write and learn the basics of mathematics and science. He cried the rest of that day and well into the next. That was when Peter's father decided to teach him his profession.

“It's something you can do and have scarcely any exchange with other people,” said his father, Karl. Karl Schwarztale was a master chimney sweep and ever busy with many customers. Being a solitary man himself, he always enjoyed his profession and took tremendous pride in it. He thought this would be an ideal career for his misshapen son.

As softly as he could, he told Peter, “I will teach you what I know about reading and writing, though I am not very advanced with my own knowledge on these subjects. I, too, did not go to school and most of what I know I learned on my own.”

So the following day Peter joined his father's side as an apprentice and began to learn the craft of chimney sweeping. While it was less common in Germany for sweeps to use helpers in their craft, it had become customary in England and most of the work was done by “climbing boys” who could fit through the increasingly narrow chimneys. Around the time of Karl's apprenticeship to become a master sweep, it was learned that the more narrow a chimney, the better the draft.

Karl was a good size man just under six feet and about fourteen stones, so he had difficulty in the newer chimneys, which were only fourteen inches by nine inches. Many of the larger homes also had chimneys that were angled, or joined to other flues, making the task more difficult.

By comparison, Peter was small, shy of four feet. He was rather skinny, as well. The latter came partially from the fact that although Karl was always in demand, being a chimney sweep did not pay well. It was considered work that was demeaning to the vast majority. More often than not, he was able to bring just enough food home to keep his family fed.

He and his wife had always wanted another child, but it was beyond Karl's meager capabilities to support a larger family. While they would admit that Peter was no joy to gaze at, he was always a good, kindhearted boy, who did as he was told. So Karl dressed him in the traditional black garb of a chimney sweep and took Peter to his first client of the day.

As they walked to the house, Karl started teaching Peter about the various brushes and what each was good for. He explained how a chimney worked and how, depending on what was burned in the firebox, he would find different types of soot and ash in each. He warned his son of the dangers of rotting chimneys and to beware of loose bricks and stones that could come crashing down on him.

Karl knew the dangers of his occupation and was aware of the reckless abandon that master sweeps treated their apprentices in other countries. While not common in his country, most of the sweeps in other parts of Europe used indentured young boys and girls as slaves. Mostly they provided them with a corner to sleep and just enough food and water to do their bidding. Many were badly burned, cut, and far too many died from uncaring masters unconcerned for their minimal welfare. Some might think Karl was throwing stones at a glass house, but he knew he would treat his son as best as he could given their circumstances.

The conditions of a chimney sweep were harsh and the work was hard. Children that were used as climbing boys were often scared to climb into the narrow passageways. He'd heard stories of masters lighting fires as they worked in the flue. This was to get them to climb higher or work faster. Thus coining the phrase “to light a fire under you”.

But he also knew that with the help of his son, he could increase the number of clients he could take care of in a day. Karl was getting older and already had respiratory concerns that were inherent from the result of years of soot and carcinogens that belched forth from the black surfaces that he cleaned and scraped. He felt a twinge of guilt thinking how he was condemning his son to a similar fate. But he could not see a higher destiny for Peter. Besides, more patrons meant more coin and a better lifestyle for them all.

As they approached their first client, Karl said to Peter, “Pull your hat lower over your face. I do not wish to have the owner see how young you are.” Actually, he did not want the owner to see how repulsive his son was either, but wouldn't hurt his feelings saying as much.

The owner paid no attention to the boy behind Karl and merely led him to the first of several chimneys needing to be cleaned. Karl laid out several sheets on the floor to keep the soot and ash from spreading elsewhere in the room. He was grateful that the chimney had not been recently used so it was cool inside the flue. He knew that if it had been winter that probably wouldn't be the case.

He laid out several brushes and showed Peter which brushes to use, where, and how best to use them.

“Okay, son, now strip down to your underwear and get climbing.”

“What?” asked Peter. “Why do I need to get undressed?”

“It will be a great deal easier for going through angles and corners for you.” Karl said, “I am familiar with this house and the chimneys all have sharp corners that you will otherwise get caught on. Be careful not to cut yourself on them, either.”

Peter did what he was told and grabbed two of the brushes. He went into the firebox and up the flue. His father told him he would take care of the base of the chimney and the first eight or nine feet as Peter did the rest.

“What you need to do is push your back against the chimney and tuck your knees and elbows in front of you. This way you can climb up the flue and brush as you go.”

At first, Peter had trouble maneuvering through the chimney but he soon began to get the hang of it. As Peter moved into the darkness he realized he began to feel a calmness he had not felt in a very long time. Darkness enclosed him like a shroud. The cool surfaces felt good on his naked skin. As he scrubbed the ash and dirt away from the surface he gagged and choked on the abrasive material. He taught himself to take deep lungfuls of air and then brush the soot while holding his breath. Once the material abated, he released his breath blowing the dust away from him.

After some practice, he was able to hold his breath for a goodly amount of time. He shimmied higher and came to the first angle in the chimney. He easily navigated the change and worked on his back to clean the upper part of the flue. Because there was no place for the residue to go but onto him, he had to hold his breath longer until he could maneuver back onto his stomach and shake the sediment off his body.

He could feel his head beginning to pound and his desire to take a large breath fighting his every movement. At last, he finished the section and as quickly as the cramped space would allow, he turned over and shook and brushed the grit off his small torso. He swept the debris into the lower chimney and watched it float down toward his father.

Luckily for Karl, he had finished most of the lower portion and was away from the base when all the dirt and ash fell into the firebox. Not having an apprentice before, Karl never thought about having to beware of falling refuse from above him. He made a mental note that he would have to be vigilant, lest he get pelted by his son's work.

“How's it going up there?” he called up to Peter.

“I am almost to the top,” answered the boy.

Karl was impressed with the speed of Peter's work, assuming he had done all that he should. But Karl wasn't concerned. He knew how meticulous Peter was about most things, and had little concern that the opening was now as clean as it would ever be swept.

When Peter reached the top of the chimney he yelled down a question. “Papa, should I just start at the top of the next one and work my way down?”

Karl barely caught the question through the muffled bricks. He thought for a moment and yelled back as best he could. “Yes, go ahead.” He then coughed out a load of black phlegm.

Peter moved to the next chimney on the roof and began his descent. He found it much easier sweeping the ash ahead of him then coming up from underneath. Again, though he could barely see after several feet, he felt a relaxed calm working in the dark. He wondered to himself if his eyesight would improve with time in this shadowy new world he was exploring. He would ask his father if his did, later.

Karl followed the manor's proprietor to the next chimney. He could already see traces of his new apprentice's work coming through the opening. He hurriedly opened the sheets to catch any more of the debris before it got on anything in the room. He had no sooner gotten the first two sheets opened when a large plume of ash fell through the opening. He decided he would have to wait until his son was finished before he would stick his head in there.

Karl knew he would have to rethink his whole approach to his learned vocation now that Peter was on the scene.

At their next appointment, Peter hit his first challenge, as the chimney had fallen into disrepair and some of the bricks were beginning to rot and crumble. His father came in from the opposite side of his son and showed him how to reconstruct the damaged area. Peter watched as his father deftly reassembled the broken opening and sealed the damage.

“You will need to teach me how to do that,” his son said with admiration.

“I will, gladly. Now let's get the rest of this chimney cleaned.”

By the end of their ten-hour day, they had done eight different clients. This was the most Karl had ever accomplished in a single day. His pockets were practically bulging from the proceeds. He now understood why other countries used helpers so regularly. He also wasn't nearly as dog-tired as he normally would be after a long day like this.

Peter was exhausted, but he knew he had accomplished a great deal and felt good over the effort. He was pleased with his father's excitement over the day's proceeds. Only one customer had made a reference to Peter's looks.

He said, “Wow, this one looks like he has fallen a few times already.” Once the man learned he was Karl's son, he made no further mention of the boy.

When they got home, Karl spoke with pride about how Peter was a natural at this work to his wife, Hilda. He also showed her the amount of money they were able to make and her already large eyes bulged more.

Over the next several years the father and son team worked well together. Karl was able to increase his number of clients and the family fared much better than when Karl had done this alone. But each year Peter noticed that his father coughed more frequently, and often more violently. Some of his coughing spells would last up to a full minute. Karl also had trouble breathing occasionally, and the two would have to stop on their way to the next client until Karl could catch his breath.

One day Peter was in a chimney almost to the opening when he heard the proprietor call up to him. “Hey you, you'd better come down here and quick! There is something wrong with Karl.”

When Peter reached his father, he was crumpled on the floor near the firebox. “Papa!” Peter cried. Karl looked at him with watery eyes and was wheezing mightily. He couldn't respond to Peter and just looked solemnly at his son and then closed his eyes.

Peter told the owner he would return tomorrow to finish the job and clean up. The owner agreed and growled, “See that you do.” In truth, he wanted the man gone before he died, and he was left with his hideous son.

Peter covered his father up in one of the unused sheets and put him in the cart that they always used to move around the items needed for their jobs. As Peter strained to push the cart, which was near twice his size with his father in it, he watched his father strain to breathe as he came in and out of consciousness.

When he got home he helped his mother get Karl into bed. Once settled, he ran off to get a doctor. The doctor almost did not come at first, and Peter had to give him money up front in order to do so.

The prognosis was not good. Too many years of ash and soot had taken its toll. Karl couldn't breathe well enough to keep his organs functioning with oxygenated blood. By the time Peter had returned the next day from cleaning the rest of the previous owner's chimneys, his father had died.

Hilda and Peter buried Karl two days later. There were only a few other people in attendance. Karl was liked, but not well known, and only one client showed to say goodbye and give Peter and his mother his condolences.

Peter told his mother he would keep the family business going and that although they would miss his father dearly, she had no cause to be worried. That was a grossly optimistic of the events that were about to take place.

Table of Contents

The Faces of Krampus

Introduction by Sinterklass

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen