December 19, 2025 • 22 mins
While Santa delivers presents to good children in Belgium and Holland, his demonic helper Black Peter stuffs the naughty ones into a sack full of hungry rats, drags them back to his coal mine on a cart pulled by plague-ridden undead rams, and forces them to dig coal forever — or until he gets hungry enough to eat them.
Ho ho ho, kids! If you like the stories Santa is telling, tell your friends and family about the Spooky Santa podcast so they can listen too!
STORY AND MUSIC CREDITS/SOURCES…
”Black Peter”: https://tinyurl.com/t6tttza
“She’s Going To Be Mad” by Vevee: https://tinyurl.com/rbcqqoo
“Finders Keepers” by Boyd Reynolds: https://tinyurl.com/wkp7uu6
All music used with permission of the artists. Spooky Santa theme by Midnight Syndicate (http://amzn.to/2BYCoXZ). All other music by Nicolas Gasparini (http://bit.ly/2LykK0g).
***Spooky Santa™ and Weird Darkness® are creations and trademarks of Marlar House Productions and Weird Darkness, LLC. Copyright © Weird Darkness, 2023
"I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46
https://weirddarkness.com/blackpeter
#WeirdDarkness #BlackPeter #ZwartePiet #ChristmasDemon #HolidayHorror #ScaryChristmas #Krampus #DarkChristmas #NaughtyList #SintaNightmare
Ho ho ho, kids! If you like the stories Santa is telling, tell your friends and family about the Spooky Santa podcast so they can listen too!
STORY AND MUSIC CREDITS/SOURCES…
”Black Peter”: https://tinyurl.com/t6tttza
“She’s Going To Be Mad” by Vevee: https://tinyurl.com/rbcqqoo
“Finders Keepers” by Boyd Reynolds: https://tinyurl.com/wkp7uu6
All music used with permission of the artists. Spooky Santa theme by Midnight Syndicate (http://amzn.to/2BYCoXZ). All other music by Nicolas Gasparini (http://bit.ly/2LykK0g).
***Spooky Santa™ and Weird Darkness® are creations and trademarks of Marlar House Productions and Weird Darkness, LLC. Copyright © Weird Darkness, 2023
"I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46
https://weirddarkness.com/blackpeter
#WeirdDarkness #BlackPeter #ZwartePiet #ChristmasDemon #HolidayHorror #ScaryChristmas #Krampus #DarkChristmas #NaughtyList #SintaNightmare
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:03):
Because most most mellows cost scarystime. Well, hello again, children,
bits Santa with another edition of Spooky Santa, where I
(00:24):
tell you spooky tales around the holidays. Today I have
three more very creepy stories. Twelve year old VV she
sent me a creepy true story that actually happened to her.
It's called She's Going to Be Mad. Author BOYD Reynolds
brings us a holiday horror called Finders Keepers. But first
(00:48):
I'm going to tell you about a demonic little dwarf
in Belgium called Black Peter. I remember, if you want
to write a scary story for me, you can email
it to me in letters. It's Spookysanta dot com. I
love scary stories from children. Now bult your doors, lock
your windows, turn off your lights, pour a mug of
(01:10):
hot cocoa. It's magic, you know, and come with Spooky
Santa for another holiday chiller. Many people have never heard
(01:32):
of Black Peter or Zorte Piet. He is a demonic
dwarf from Belgium and the Netherlands, and he appears every
Christmas as an evil helper for me. Now for the
Dutch and the Belgians, they know me as Saint Nicholas,
and according to legend, I triumphed over this devilish dwarf
(01:53):
in a fight and made him my slave. That's not true.
I would never enslave anyone. What that is the story
Black Peter. He lives in a coal mine in Spain,
and his skin is black because of the soot and
the coal dust from the mine. His hair is singed
by the fire from all the chimneys that he has
(02:14):
to climb down. He spends the year spying on the
children of Belgium and Holland, taking note of who's been
good and who has been wicked. He helps me keep
track of the good and the naughty kids. On Christmas Eve,
he sets out from his coal mine, squeezing himself through
the narrow tunnels and writing off on his coal cart,
(02:36):
which is pulled by plague ridden on dead rams. Every Christmas,
Black Peter accompanies me all through Belgium and Holland. We
go from house to house. I, of course give presents
to the good little children, and while I do that,
Black Peter takes delight in punishing the kids on my
naughty list. Children who misbehave. They do not receive any
(02:59):
presence from me. Instead, Black Peter will leave a bundle
of twigs or a lump of coal in their Christmas
stocking as a warning. I don't leave the coal. That's
Black Peter's job. If the children have been really bad
or they've not heeded Black Pete's warning, he will snatch
(03:19):
them from their beds and throw them into his sack,
which is full of hungry rats. He kidnaps the boys
and girls and takes them back to his coal mine
where he changed them up and makes them his slaves.
The poor children are forced to dig coal forever while
Black Peter amuses himself by poking them with sharp pins.
(03:42):
If they ever grow too sick or tired of working, though,
Black Peter will eat them so, as the song goes,
be good for goodness sake. He gets your email every day.
(04:05):
Here's your man to day. I love getting emails from
all of my good boys and girls, and I especially
love those who send me scary stories that they've written
or of things that have truly happened to them. If
you would like to send me your scary story, you
can email it to me at letters at spookysanta dot com.
(04:27):
That's letters at spookysanta dot com. Or tell your story
to your mom and dad and they can email it
for you. Then when I receive it, I'll be able
to share it with all of my good boys and
girls in a future episode. Today, I received a very
creepy story from VV. She's twelve years old and lives
(04:48):
in Boulder, Colorado, and she wrote a story that she
says is true, that it really happened to her. She
calls it She's going to be mad. Here is Vv's story.
I was babysitting my three year old sister once. We
were playing out in the yard and I asked her
why she wouldn't ride her tricycle. She told me she's
(05:10):
going to be mad. Well, I didn't think anything of it.
I picked my sister up and tried to sit her
on her trick. I never heard my sister scream so loud,
kicking me and crying while saying she's going to hurt me.
She's going to hurt me. She said it over and
over where I freaked out and just walked inside the
(05:32):
house with her all day. I kept asking her if
everything was okay, and she said, yes, she's not mad anymore. Ooh,
I wonder who your three year old sister was seeing
a ghost. Perhaps. Ooh, that is a scary story, Viv.
Thank you so much for sending it to me. Now
(05:54):
for my final story. It's from Boyd Reynolds and it's
called Finders Keepers. You see, in Germanic folklore, Christmas is
not only a time to rejoice. It's also a time
to fear. For wherever children sleep, crampus is near. Here's
the story, which present do you want to open? Ricky
(06:20):
stared at his mountain of gifts. Wrapped boxes of every
size mushroomed out from beneath the red, glowing Christmas tree. Remember,
his mother said, you can only open one on Christmas Eve.
Her smile grew wide as she teased him, wagging a
finger in the air. A crease ran across Ricky's brow.
(06:42):
Just one, he said, irritated, I want them all, Now
you know the rules. His father's voice was stern. Don't
be greedy. You'll have your fill tomorrow morning. Now pick
one before we change our minds. Ricky frowned, being sure
that both his parents saw him. Then he made his
(07:03):
way toward the enormous Christmas tree. It towered over him,
glowing like a fiery inferno, like a detective examining a
crime scene. Ricky investigated each box as per usual, He
reached for the biggest gift he could find, yet before
touching it, something else caught his attention. Out of the
(07:24):
quarter of his eye. An oddly shaped present made him
stop quietly. He withdrew his hand and looked at the
strange prize sitting atop the mantle above the fireplace. It
was bright red and poorly wrapped. He didn't know why,
but his hand was drawn to it. Good choice, his
(07:45):
father said. Sitting in front of the roaring fire, Ricky
gazed at his gift. The shape was awkward, much like
a warped banana. He opened it carefully. Emerging from the
wrapping was the weirdest doll he had ever seen. It
was made of dark wood and had a huge head
(08:07):
with tiny legs and arms. It wore a half moon
jesture's hat on its head, had big black eyes and
a rather alarming smile. What is it, Ricky said, It's creepy.
I found it when I went to Germany last month
for work, his father said, settling deeper into the couch.
(08:27):
Some of the locals didn't want me to take it.
Legend says it belongs to Crampis. Crampis, Ricky asked, think
of it as a bad Santa. His father said on
Christmas Eve, he punishes greedy children. Cook, Ricky grumbled, shrugging
his shoulders. It's mine now, finders keepers, just like all
(08:50):
the rest of them. His eyes glistened as he looked
at all the toys he was to receive the next morning. Someday,
his father canntinued that selfishness will come back to haunt you.
Ricky continued to stare at his future gifts whatever. His
father glared at him. Time for bed. I'll put out
(09:12):
this fire so Santa could get down the chimney and
add to this year's haul for your highness. The thought
of even more presence sent a wild smile across Ricky's face.
He picked up his doll and walked right past his father.
He gave his mom a kiss on her cheek and
went upstairs. Quickly. He tucked himself behind the hallway wall.
(09:34):
Edging his eyes around the wall, he peered down at
his parents through the handrail posts running up the stairs.
We've made an eleven year old monster, you know, his
father remarked. He's a good boy, his mother said. In
defense of her son, she sat up from her comfortable
spot on the other side of the couch. Crossing her
(09:54):
arms tightly, she turned away from her husband. Yeah, he scoffed,
good at getting whatever he wants. He's spoiled, but one
day he'll learn, hopefully sooner than later. Irritated with what
he had just heard, Ricky disappeared down the dimly lit hallway.
He entered his bedroom and turned on the overhead light.
(10:16):
Looking out at the hundreds of other playthings littering the floor,
table and two bean bag chairs, he wondered where to
put his new present. It was unique, but it was
still just one toy among many. I guess it doesn't
matter where this little thing goes, Ricky thought to himself.
He tossed it into a pile of toys on his
(10:38):
bedside table. The doll's eyes looked up at him. Leaning down,
he turned on the night light. From the table of toys,
it appeared something had moved. He wheeled his head around,
but there was nothing. Only his new trinket stared back.
Uh pre Christmas jitter, he muttered. He stood up and
(10:58):
made his way over to the door. As usual, he
closed it only partially, leaving the door open a tiny crack.
Then he flicked off the light and made his way
into bed. That Christmas Eve, Ricky tossed and turned. He
couldn't get his mind off of the presence awaiting him.
The next morning, after a few restless hours, he opened
(11:21):
his eyes and stared out the window. A full moon
floated in the night sky. Bored, he turned his attention
to his new doll. It was still looking at him.
Closing his eyes, he thought of how no one at
school had such a toy. Smugly, he pulled his head
up to look once more at his gift, only this
(11:44):
time it was gone. Sitting up straight, his eyes nervously
looked around the room, scanning every corner. Finally they rested
on the doll, sitting upright on the carpet next to
his bed. Fear constricted around Ricky like a serpent. The
tiny knickknack sat as if it had been placed on
the ground, if it had fallen off the table, wouldn't
(12:06):
it be lying face down or on its back? Ricky's
nerves went into overdrive. He buried his face in his pillow,
but his mind wouldn't let it go. Where was the doll.
Now his eyes peered back out from the confines of
the pillow, it was nowhere to be seen. He glanced
(12:28):
at the door. A sliver of light came in from
the hallway, and suddenly a tiny shadow appeared in the gap.
It was the doll. Ricky shut his eyes with all
his might. When he looked again, the door was open
even farther, and the tiny toy was gone, as quiet
(12:48):
as I Chris Kringle. On Christmas Eve, Ricky pulled his
body from his bed, opened the door, and peered down
the hallway. There it was the doll, standing near the
far end. Without looking back, the doll descended the stairs.
Taking careful steps, Ricky walked the length of the hall.
He made his way down the first few stairs, and
(13:10):
then sat. The Christmas tree illuminated the entire room. He
keenly watched from behind the white hand rail posts as
the toy faced the fireplace and sat down. The once
burning logs had now turned to ash. All of a sudden,
he heard something. It was coming from the roof and
sounded like someone walking. Tiny kernels of dirt dropped into
(13:34):
the fireplace. Ricky's heart irerupted in delight. Santa. Something rustled
its way down the chimney. First there was something black
that poked out the bottom like a boot. Then came
a red leg. Finally, a figure stepped out of the fireplace,
but it certainly was not me. No before Young Ricky
(13:56):
appeared a creature as tall as the Christmas tree itself.
It balanced on two hoofs, dark red skin climbing up
its knees. On its thighs ran long dark hair which
continued right up to its neck. Its arms were much
like its legs, fiery red from its long black fingernails
(14:16):
to its elbows, with hair covering its upper arms. Most
terrible of all was its face, leathery red and sunken
like a skull. Large spiral horns rested on the sides
of its forehead, curling angrily around, much like that of
a ram. Hello, my old friend, the creature said in
(14:38):
a deep and menacing voice, bending down in front of
the doll Rickey's doll, Hello, Crampis, The doll said, I
have a gift for you. I know. Crampus licked gigantic
fangs with a forked tongue. It reached out and scooped
up the plaything much like a mother wood child. Lifting
(15:00):
a brown sack off its shoulder, the monster dropped it
in the middle of the room. Carefully, it opened the
bag and dangled the doll above. Coming out of the
sack was a bombardment of children's voices, all screaming and crying.
Ricky covered his ears. Crampus dropped the toy inside and
(15:21):
resealed the bag. The moment it did, the bawling stopped,
but Ricky's present was gone. A selfish fire brewed in
Ricky's belly, overtaking his fear. That's mine, he shouted. He
couldn't believe he'd said it. Crampus's long, pointy ears turned
(15:41):
toward him. Its demon eyes followed. It's yours, you say,
Finder's keepers. Ricky's words quivered out of his mouth. In
one long stride, the creature moved in front of him.
Ricky stared at the Christmas devil, paralyzed with fear. Look,
and how many presents you have, boy, Crampis said, you
(16:04):
cannot spare just one for me, and it is mine anyway,
How greedy are you? A blanket of shame? Lay over, Ricky,
My doll brought me to you, Crampus said, now you
will come with me to my castle on the mountain.
I have more toys than you have ever seen, and
(16:26):
they will all be yours. You won't have to share
them with anyone, wouldn't you like that? Ricky's eyes boast.
All I need is a signature, Crampis smiled. Reaching behind
his back, the diabolical brute unrolled a long scroll. What
(16:47):
was on it? Ricky had no idea for, Crampis quickly
pointed to the bottom. There sat a dotted line, awaiting
a signature. The fiend pulled out a long white pen
that looked like it had been crafted from bone. Carefully,
it pricked the pen's sharpest end on the back of
Ricky's hand. Ouch, Ricky said, a drop of blood formed
(17:12):
only a scratch. The villain licked its lips and handed
Ricky the pen. All Ricky could think about was a
single image, a gigantic pile of toys and Ricky standing
high atop. He gave into his selfishness and began to write,
looking on in horror as the red blood from his
(17:33):
hand wrote his name on the dotted line. Just before finishing,
a desperate feeling came over him. Something terrible was about
to happen. He tried to pull the pen away, but
he couldn't. It continued to write, as if having a
life of its own, and completed his signature. There, Crampus said,
(17:54):
this contract is official, bound in blood. You are mine,
fine keepers. Crampus grabbed Ricky by the scruff of the
neck and tightened, pulling him over the handrail. Ricky gripped
the rail with all his might, but Crampus was too strong.
Don't fight it, Crampus said, you've already given yourself to me.
(18:18):
The creature held the boy high above his head. Ricky
kicked as hard as he could, but it was no use. Laughing,
Crampus opened the bag and lowered Ricky down inside the sack.
Children's hungry faces glowed up at him. Their chalk white
hands extended and grasped his feet. Finders Keepers. The children chanted,
(18:41):
Finders Keepers. They pulled him into the darkness of the bag.
The chant surrounded him, being sung over and over again,
little hands pulling and prodding him. He curled into a
ball and started to weep. The chanting grew louder and
louder as the children smothered Ricky. Stop stop, please, he pleaded,
(19:05):
I won't be mister Greedy anymore. He watched the top
of the bag close. I promise, I promise not to
be greedy. The chanting ceased. Ricky opened his eyes. The
darkness was gone. He was in bed looking out his window.
He saw the sun was up outside. Snow fell lightly
(19:28):
to the ground. Oh it was only a nightmare, he said,
as tears poured down his cheeks. He sprang out of
bed and ran downstairs. His parents were waiting for him.
Well this sets a precedent, his dad said, mister Greedy,
sleeping in on your big day, will wonders never cease.
(19:49):
Time to open your gifts. Instead of diving into his presence, though,
Ricky walked past the Christmas tree and sat right between
his parents on the couch. He turned to his father,
I want you to go first. Stunned, his dad stood,
last night you wanted them all This morning you want
(20:10):
to wait? What have you done with my son? Laughing,
he walked around the tree looking for a gift to open.
Bending low behind the fireplace, he picked up something small.
Will you look at this, his father said, I thought
you took your new gift to bed last night. Ricky's
eyes grew wide, when he saw it, a queasy feeling
(20:33):
consumed his stomach. In his father's hand sat Crampis's dull.
A devilish smile crept across his father's face as he said,
finders keepers, Oh, that Crampis definitely is a scary one,
(20:58):
isn't he? And I wouldn't even want to mess with
his doll? Did you like the stories I told kids?
If so, do Santa a giant favor and tell your
friends and family members about the Spooky Santa podcast. That
way they can listen to my stories too, and you
can all talk about them. And remember, you can write
(21:19):
your own scary story for me and email it to
me at letters at spookysanta dot com. You can make
up a brand new horror story, or you could tell
me about something scary that really happened to you. Send
it to me at letters at spookysanta dot com. Spooky
Santa is a registered trademark of Marlar House Productions copyright
(21:41):
Marlar House Productions. Now be a good little boy or
girl and join me next time for more creepy tales
from Spooky Santa
Because most most mellows cost scarystime. Well, hello again, children,
bits Santa with another edition of Spooky Santa, where I
(00:24):
tell you spooky tales around the holidays. Today I have
three more very creepy stories. Twelve year old VV she
sent me a creepy true story that actually happened to her.
It's called She's Going to Be Mad. Author BOYD Reynolds
brings us a holiday horror called Finders Keepers. But first
(00:48):
I'm going to tell you about a demonic little dwarf
in Belgium called Black Peter. I remember, if you want
to write a scary story for me, you can email
it to me in letters. It's Spookysanta dot com. I
love scary stories from children. Now bult your doors, lock
your windows, turn off your lights, pour a mug of
(01:10):
hot cocoa. It's magic, you know, and come with Spooky
Santa for another holiday chiller. Many people have never heard
(01:32):
of Black Peter or Zorte Piet. He is a demonic
dwarf from Belgium and the Netherlands, and he appears every
Christmas as an evil helper for me. Now for the
Dutch and the Belgians, they know me as Saint Nicholas,
and according to legend, I triumphed over this devilish dwarf
(01:53):
in a fight and made him my slave. That's not true.
I would never enslave anyone. What that is the story
Black Peter. He lives in a coal mine in Spain,
and his skin is black because of the soot and
the coal dust from the mine. His hair is singed
by the fire from all the chimneys that he has
(02:14):
to climb down. He spends the year spying on the
children of Belgium and Holland, taking note of who's been
good and who has been wicked. He helps me keep
track of the good and the naughty kids. On Christmas Eve,
he sets out from his coal mine, squeezing himself through
the narrow tunnels and writing off on his coal cart,
(02:36):
which is pulled by plague ridden on dead rams. Every Christmas,
Black Peter accompanies me all through Belgium and Holland. We
go from house to house. I, of course give presents
to the good little children, and while I do that,
Black Peter takes delight in punishing the kids on my
naughty list. Children who misbehave. They do not receive any
(02:59):
presence from me. Instead, Black Peter will leave a bundle
of twigs or a lump of coal in their Christmas
stocking as a warning. I don't leave the coal. That's
Black Peter's job. If the children have been really bad
or they've not heeded Black Pete's warning, he will snatch
(03:19):
them from their beds and throw them into his sack,
which is full of hungry rats. He kidnaps the boys
and girls and takes them back to his coal mine
where he changed them up and makes them his slaves.
The poor children are forced to dig coal forever while
Black Peter amuses himself by poking them with sharp pins.
(03:42):
If they ever grow too sick or tired of working, though,
Black Peter will eat them so, as the song goes,
be good for goodness sake. He gets your email every day.
(04:05):
Here's your man to day. I love getting emails from
all of my good boys and girls, and I especially
love those who send me scary stories that they've written
or of things that have truly happened to them. If
you would like to send me your scary story, you
can email it to me at letters at spookysanta dot com.
(04:27):
That's letters at spookysanta dot com. Or tell your story
to your mom and dad and they can email it
for you. Then when I receive it, I'll be able
to share it with all of my good boys and
girls in a future episode. Today, I received a very
creepy story from VV. She's twelve years old and lives
(04:48):
in Boulder, Colorado, and she wrote a story that she
says is true, that it really happened to her. She
calls it She's going to be mad. Here is Vv's story.
I was babysitting my three year old sister once. We
were playing out in the yard and I asked her
why she wouldn't ride her tricycle. She told me she's
(05:10):
going to be mad. Well, I didn't think anything of it.
I picked my sister up and tried to sit her
on her trick. I never heard my sister scream so loud,
kicking me and crying while saying she's going to hurt me.
She's going to hurt me. She said it over and
over where I freaked out and just walked inside the
(05:32):
house with her all day. I kept asking her if
everything was okay, and she said, yes, she's not mad anymore. Ooh,
I wonder who your three year old sister was seeing
a ghost. Perhaps. Ooh, that is a scary story, Viv.
Thank you so much for sending it to me. Now
(05:54):
for my final story. It's from Boyd Reynolds and it's
called Finders Keepers. You see, in Germanic folklore, Christmas is
not only a time to rejoice. It's also a time
to fear. For wherever children sleep, crampus is near. Here's
the story, which present do you want to open? Ricky
(06:20):
stared at his mountain of gifts. Wrapped boxes of every
size mushroomed out from beneath the red, glowing Christmas tree. Remember,
his mother said, you can only open one on Christmas Eve.
Her smile grew wide as she teased him, wagging a
finger in the air. A crease ran across Ricky's brow.
(06:42):
Just one, he said, irritated, I want them all, Now
you know the rules. His father's voice was stern. Don't
be greedy. You'll have your fill tomorrow morning. Now pick
one before we change our minds. Ricky frowned, being sure
that both his parents saw him. Then he made his
(07:03):
way toward the enormous Christmas tree. It towered over him,
glowing like a fiery inferno, like a detective examining a
crime scene. Ricky investigated each box as per usual, He
reached for the biggest gift he could find, yet before
touching it, something else caught his attention. Out of the
(07:24):
quarter of his eye. An oddly shaped present made him
stop quietly. He withdrew his hand and looked at the
strange prize sitting atop the mantle above the fireplace. It
was bright red and poorly wrapped. He didn't know why,
but his hand was drawn to it. Good choice, his
(07:45):
father said. Sitting in front of the roaring fire, Ricky
gazed at his gift. The shape was awkward, much like
a warped banana. He opened it carefully. Emerging from the
wrapping was the weirdest doll he had ever seen. It
was made of dark wood and had a huge head
(08:07):
with tiny legs and arms. It wore a half moon
jesture's hat on its head, had big black eyes and
a rather alarming smile. What is it, Ricky said, It's creepy.
I found it when I went to Germany last month
for work, his father said, settling deeper into the couch.
(08:27):
Some of the locals didn't want me to take it.
Legend says it belongs to Crampis. Crampis, Ricky asked, think
of it as a bad Santa. His father said on
Christmas Eve, he punishes greedy children. Cook, Ricky grumbled, shrugging
his shoulders. It's mine now, finders keepers, just like all
(08:50):
the rest of them. His eyes glistened as he looked
at all the toys he was to receive the next morning. Someday,
his father canntinued that selfishness will come back to haunt you.
Ricky continued to stare at his future gifts whatever. His
father glared at him. Time for bed. I'll put out
(09:12):
this fire so Santa could get down the chimney and
add to this year's haul for your highness. The thought
of even more presence sent a wild smile across Ricky's face.
He picked up his doll and walked right past his father.
He gave his mom a kiss on her cheek and
went upstairs. Quickly. He tucked himself behind the hallway wall.
(09:34):
Edging his eyes around the wall, he peered down at
his parents through the handrail posts running up the stairs.
We've made an eleven year old monster, you know, his
father remarked. He's a good boy, his mother said. In
defense of her son, she sat up from her comfortable
spot on the other side of the couch. Crossing her
(09:54):
arms tightly, she turned away from her husband. Yeah, he scoffed,
good at getting whatever he wants. He's spoiled, but one
day he'll learn, hopefully sooner than later. Irritated with what
he had just heard, Ricky disappeared down the dimly lit hallway.
He entered his bedroom and turned on the overhead light.
(10:16):
Looking out at the hundreds of other playthings littering the floor,
table and two bean bag chairs, he wondered where to
put his new present. It was unique, but it was
still just one toy among many. I guess it doesn't
matter where this little thing goes, Ricky thought to himself.
He tossed it into a pile of toys on his
(10:38):
bedside table. The doll's eyes looked up at him. Leaning down,
he turned on the night light. From the table of toys,
it appeared something had moved. He wheeled his head around,
but there was nothing. Only his new trinket stared back.
Uh pre Christmas jitter, he muttered. He stood up and
(10:58):
made his way over to the door. As usual, he
closed it only partially, leaving the door open a tiny crack.
Then he flicked off the light and made his way
into bed. That Christmas Eve, Ricky tossed and turned. He
couldn't get his mind off of the presence awaiting him.
The next morning, after a few restless hours, he opened
(11:21):
his eyes and stared out the window. A full moon
floated in the night sky. Bored, he turned his attention
to his new doll. It was still looking at him.
Closing his eyes, he thought of how no one at
school had such a toy. Smugly, he pulled his head
up to look once more at his gift, only this
(11:44):
time it was gone. Sitting up straight, his eyes nervously
looked around the room, scanning every corner. Finally they rested
on the doll, sitting upright on the carpet next to
his bed. Fear constricted around Ricky like a serpent. The
tiny knickknack sat as if it had been placed on
the ground, if it had fallen off the table, wouldn't
(12:06):
it be lying face down or on its back? Ricky's
nerves went into overdrive. He buried his face in his pillow,
but his mind wouldn't let it go. Where was the doll.
Now his eyes peered back out from the confines of
the pillow, it was nowhere to be seen. He glanced
(12:28):
at the door. A sliver of light came in from
the hallway, and suddenly a tiny shadow appeared in the gap.
It was the doll. Ricky shut his eyes with all
his might. When he looked again, the door was open
even farther, and the tiny toy was gone, as quiet
(12:48):
as I Chris Kringle. On Christmas Eve, Ricky pulled his
body from his bed, opened the door, and peered down
the hallway. There it was the doll, standing near the
far end. Without looking back, the doll descended the stairs.
Taking careful steps, Ricky walked the length of the hall.
He made his way down the first few stairs, and
(13:10):
then sat. The Christmas tree illuminated the entire room. He
keenly watched from behind the white hand rail posts as
the toy faced the fireplace and sat down. The once
burning logs had now turned to ash. All of a sudden,
he heard something. It was coming from the roof and
sounded like someone walking. Tiny kernels of dirt dropped into
(13:34):
the fireplace. Ricky's heart irerupted in delight. Santa. Something rustled
its way down the chimney. First there was something black
that poked out the bottom like a boot. Then came
a red leg. Finally, a figure stepped out of the fireplace,
but it certainly was not me. No before Young Ricky
(13:56):
appeared a creature as tall as the Christmas tree itself.
It balanced on two hoofs, dark red skin climbing up
its knees. On its thighs ran long dark hair which
continued right up to its neck. Its arms were much
like its legs, fiery red from its long black fingernails
(14:16):
to its elbows, with hair covering its upper arms. Most
terrible of all was its face, leathery red and sunken
like a skull. Large spiral horns rested on the sides
of its forehead, curling angrily around, much like that of
a ram. Hello, my old friend, the creature said in
(14:38):
a deep and menacing voice, bending down in front of
the doll Rickey's doll, Hello, Crampis, The doll said, I
have a gift for you. I know. Crampus licked gigantic
fangs with a forked tongue. It reached out and scooped
up the plaything much like a mother wood child. Lifting
(15:00):
a brown sack off its shoulder, the monster dropped it
in the middle of the room. Carefully, it opened the
bag and dangled the doll above. Coming out of the
sack was a bombardment of children's voices, all screaming and crying.
Ricky covered his ears. Crampus dropped the toy inside and
(15:21):
resealed the bag. The moment it did, the bawling stopped,
but Ricky's present was gone. A selfish fire brewed in
Ricky's belly, overtaking his fear. That's mine, he shouted. He
couldn't believe he'd said it. Crampus's long, pointy ears turned
(15:41):
toward him. Its demon eyes followed. It's yours, you say,
Finder's keepers. Ricky's words quivered out of his mouth. In
one long stride, the creature moved in front of him.
Ricky stared at the Christmas devil, paralyzed with fear. Look,
and how many presents you have, boy, Crampis said, you
(16:04):
cannot spare just one for me, and it is mine anyway,
How greedy are you? A blanket of shame? Lay over, Ricky,
My doll brought me to you, Crampus said, now you
will come with me to my castle on the mountain.
I have more toys than you have ever seen, and
(16:26):
they will all be yours. You won't have to share
them with anyone, wouldn't you like that? Ricky's eyes boast.
All I need is a signature, Crampis smiled. Reaching behind
his back, the diabolical brute unrolled a long scroll. What
(16:47):
was on it? Ricky had no idea for, Crampis quickly
pointed to the bottom. There sat a dotted line, awaiting
a signature. The fiend pulled out a long white pen
that looked like it had been crafted from bone. Carefully,
it pricked the pen's sharpest end on the back of
Ricky's hand. Ouch, Ricky said, a drop of blood formed
(17:12):
only a scratch. The villain licked its lips and handed
Ricky the pen. All Ricky could think about was a
single image, a gigantic pile of toys and Ricky standing
high atop. He gave into his selfishness and began to write,
looking on in horror as the red blood from his
(17:33):
hand wrote his name on the dotted line. Just before finishing,
a desperate feeling came over him. Something terrible was about
to happen. He tried to pull the pen away, but
he couldn't. It continued to write, as if having a
life of its own, and completed his signature. There, Crampus said,
(17:54):
this contract is official, bound in blood. You are mine,
fine keepers. Crampus grabbed Ricky by the scruff of the
neck and tightened, pulling him over the handrail. Ricky gripped
the rail with all his might, but Crampus was too strong.
Don't fight it, Crampus said, you've already given yourself to me.
(18:18):
The creature held the boy high above his head. Ricky
kicked as hard as he could, but it was no use. Laughing,
Crampus opened the bag and lowered Ricky down inside the sack.
Children's hungry faces glowed up at him. Their chalk white
hands extended and grasped his feet. Finders Keepers. The children chanted,
(18:41):
Finders Keepers. They pulled him into the darkness of the bag.
The chant surrounded him, being sung over and over again,
little hands pulling and prodding him. He curled into a
ball and started to weep. The chanting grew louder and
louder as the children smothered Ricky. Stop stop, please, he pleaded,
(19:05):
I won't be mister Greedy anymore. He watched the top
of the bag close. I promise, I promise not to
be greedy. The chanting ceased. Ricky opened his eyes. The
darkness was gone. He was in bed looking out his window.
He saw the sun was up outside. Snow fell lightly
(19:28):
to the ground. Oh it was only a nightmare, he said,
as tears poured down his cheeks. He sprang out of
bed and ran downstairs. His parents were waiting for him.
Well this sets a precedent, his dad said, mister Greedy,
sleeping in on your big day, will wonders never cease.
(19:49):
Time to open your gifts. Instead of diving into his presence, though,
Ricky walked past the Christmas tree and sat right between
his parents on the couch. He turned to his father,
I want you to go first. Stunned, his dad stood,
last night you wanted them all This morning you want
(20:10):
to wait? What have you done with my son? Laughing,
he walked around the tree looking for a gift to open.
Bending low behind the fireplace, he picked up something small.
Will you look at this, his father said, I thought
you took your new gift to bed last night. Ricky's
eyes grew wide, when he saw it, a queasy feeling
(20:33):
consumed his stomach. In his father's hand sat Crampis's dull.
A devilish smile crept across his father's face as he said,
finders keepers, Oh, that Crampis definitely is a scary one,
(20:58):
isn't he? And I wouldn't even want to mess with
his doll? Did you like the stories I told kids?
If so, do Santa a giant favor and tell your
friends and family members about the Spooky Santa podcast. That
way they can listen to my stories too, and you
can all talk about them. And remember, you can write
(21:19):
your own scary story for me and email it to
me at letters at spookysanta dot com. You can make
up a brand new horror story, or you could tell
me about something scary that really happened to you. Send
it to me at letters at spookysanta dot com. Spooky
Santa is a registered trademark of Marlar House Productions copyright
(21:41):
Marlar House Productions. Now be a good little boy or
girl and join me next time for more creepy tales
from Spooky Santa
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