‘Yup, great,’ Billy agrees, trying his best to be brave. ‘Up, up,’ he adds, his arms outstretched, and I scoop him up onto my hip, the flashlight looped around my wrist thumping heavy against my thigh.
‘Oh, and one more question, Sam,’ I say, turning back to him. ‘What if I do if I get caught by the—’
But I do not get to finish as the house plunges into darkness and the children begin to scream.
From outside the front door, the cow bell clunks mournfully and the shrieks stutter to a halt. The darkness is suddenly filled with nothing but the sound of muffled breathing and fear. Then three reverberating knocks hit the front door and echo through the house. All eyes turn to the grotesque and towering silhouette beyond the glass of the front door. Then the sound of something barely human screams out into the night air, cutting through everything.
Jesus fucking Christ. I was expecting an uncle in a costume, and maybe a little growling, not whatever the hell that is.
The door handle turns and, at that point, the kids go absolutely berserk. Bloodcurdling screams filling the house as panicked feet pound up the staircase and away, down hallways, into the darkness of unseen rooms. Only Billy and I remain in the silence, Billy completely frozen on my hip as I gently try the handle back into the adult’s room. I don’t think I want to play anymore.
But the sitting room door is locked, beyond only silence. They’ve locked me out. The front door slowly creaks open, the last barrier between us and the silhouetted creature. Billy wriggles with blind panic in my arms.
‘Run! Harry-ept, run!!’ he screams, and I spin in time to see what he sees, the blood draining from me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was not this. This is not a Holbeck brother in a furry suit; this is not something digestible, or child-friendly.
My breath comes in short, tight gasps. It stands seven feet tall even as it crouches under the front door frame, panting wet animal breaths, haloed in streetlight against the night sky. Its face, partly stripped of skin, is bleeding, its teeth jagged, yellowed and slick with strung saliva. Its distorted face is part human, though its jaw is distending in pain. And around its neck a rusty dented cowbell tunks with its every movement.
I reel back instinctively, the wall knocking the air clean from me as I hit it, and Billy’s grip tightens. The creature’s eyes watch us carefully, the slowest of the herd, left behind. It cocks its head, taking in the stairs to our right as it anticipates my next move, but I do not think twice – I bolt as fast as I can, because whatever this is does not feel like a game.
Behind me the creature lunges as I scramble up the stairs, Billy clinging tight to me. When we reach the top, I dart behind the landing wall where, pressed against the paintwork, breath coming high and fast, I try to listen. There is no sound from the stairs.
I cannot hear him. It. Krampus. Only the rasp of my own tight breaths.
The house is silent save for the muffled sounds of children’s feet in the darkness. The cow bell must have been silenced because I can no longer hear the creature coming.
Whatever that thing is downstairs, it won’t be announcing its presence anymore; it’ll come stealthily and slowly and God knows what will happen if it finds you.
Of course, I’m a rational person; I know the thing down there is someone in a suit. It has to be. I just I wasn’t expecting the suit to look quite so terrifying, to be quite so real. But I suppose with all the money in the world you can afford realism. And this Krampus is just that – a movie-grade prosthetic marvel. I know monsters are not real, my rational mind knows that, but like it or not, my heart will not stop pounding. First Robert’s tape and now this; games definitely don’t feel like games in this family.
After a few more seconds of recovery, I carefully heave us both up to standing. In the half-light I make out Billy’s terrified face. He watches me silently, the unfathomable trust in his eyes demanding clear action.
‘Which way goes up?’ I whisper to him calmly. I know from the outside of the building that it has five floors including a basement level. There should be another two more floors above us. The higher we are, the safer we’ll be for now.