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[ It comes time to wind down—all the good boys and girls around town lay their heads to sleep, counting each and every sheep. You, too, await Christmas; the last hours of dreary November are carried away by sleep, yet into your mouth your heart shall leap. ]
". . Annyeonghaseyo, Karakura."
[ A crackling, tinny voice bleeds into the white noise coming from the worn machine nearby. When it came to widely available radio models in Karakura's, much was left to be desired in terms of advancement. Surely, there was cause behind it. . but it seemed to suit a handful of radio dairies with a peculiar atmosphere.]
"Thankyou for joining me tonight. As always, I will grant you all a goodnight at the end of this segment on The Azure Hour. Tonight's stories are compiled with the upcoming festive season in mind—told by yours truly—in hopes that you'll recognize what else may dwell in your fire-lit homes."
Western Europe
[Audibly, there a few faint sound effects in the background. They aren't particularly received well through the old tech, setting the atmosphere in a sense unintended—yet suiting. The ominous noises settle behind the reporters voice, whom shifts his tone as if uttering a hair-raising campfire story.]
"An evil twin is amongst the responsibilities that saint Nicholas is free of. However, to say that his presence is entirely as bright as the lights lining every catholic street is muchly untrue. During Christmas, Western European culture—specifically Austria, Bavaria, and Tyrol—emphasize the purpose of the 'naughty list'. The mere thought of being on that side of the book is enough to straighten out bad behavior, typically. But this tale takes it a step further—manifesting the shadow of Santa Claus into a demon."
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"Krampus is told to resemble the height of man, bearing the figure of a goat. Chain clad with thick horns that curl like unkept tree branches, the rattle that follows is being settling outside your door as the telltale sign of your last day as a human child. If you were lucky, you're merely met with icy coal and a few birch rods—symbolizing his presence, but not exactly the lack of yours. Today, you would tend to the warm fire instead of eat. As for the less fortunate met with the scraping of claws at their windows, Krampus stuffs the wicked into a wicker basket, drowning them in icy winter streams and yet graciously granting them the scalding hot fires of hell in the worst of winters."
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"Born into the Alpine church writings in the late 16th century, Krampus is derived from the complaints of clergymen regarding Christmas devils to condemn "diabolical customs", following close behind Saint Nicholas. The first clear use of the demons name appears in folk plays in the 17th-18th century, and was used thereon forward to scare children and keep them honest, especially when food had grown scarce in the wintertime's."
[Audibly, there a few faint sound effects in the background. They aren't particularly received well through the old tech, setting the atmosphere in a sense unintended—yet suiting. The ominous noises settle behind the reporters voice, whom shifts his tone as if uttering a hair-raising campfire story.]
"An evil twin is amongst the responsibilities that saint Nicholas is free of. However, to say that his presence is entirely as bright as the lights lining every catholic street is muchly untrue. During Christmas, Western European culture—specifically Austria, Bavaria, and Tyrol—emphasize the purpose of the 'naughty list'. The mere thought of being on that side of the book is enough to straighten out bad behavior, typically. But this tale takes it a step further—manifesting the shadow of Santa Claus into a demon."
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"Krampus is told to resemble the height of man, bearing the figure of a goat. Chain clad with thick horns that curl like unkept tree branches, the rattle that follows is being settling outside your door as the telltale sign of your last day as a human child. If you were lucky, you're merely met with icy coal and a few birch rods—symbolizing his presence, but not exactly the lack of yours. Today, you would tend to the warm fire instead of eat. As for the less fortunate met with the scraping of claws at their windows, Krampus stuffs the wicked into a wicker basket, drowning them in icy winter streams and yet graciously granting them the scalding hot fires of hell in the worst of winters."
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"Born into the Alpine church writings in the late 16th century, Krampus is derived from the complaints of clergymen regarding Christmas devils to condemn "diabolical customs", following close behind Saint Nicholas. The first clear use of the demons name appears in folk plays in the 17th-18th century, and was used thereon forward to scare children and keep them honest, especially when food had grown scarce in the wintertime's."
Northwestern Europe
[ Theres a slight pitch in the reporters voice. Amusement, most likely, at the contrasting folklore tied to one of the friendliest breeds of feline. It seems what had been made of it in the sinister months of October dragged on into even the warmest of holidays.]
"The 'Yule Cat' of Iceland, I doubt, would strike fear in many these days. Unlike Krampus, the enormous felines intentions could be deemed merciful, to rid of those who faced the dreadful winter without warm attire. To call the work too demanding was to seal your fate of being no more than a kitty's meal, one unmistakably inky against the pale white snow."
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"It stems from an old belief that everyone must finish their weaving before the festive holiday. Those who slacked, merely forgot, even lacking the monetary means to do so were in grave danger. Families worked tirelessly to ensure no one in the family went without new clothing. Should it be the case, they say the cat can smell poverty and shame as easily as it can smell fear. Some offer scraps of wool perched outside their homes, others kept candles burning all night to ward it off. But at the end of the day, it came down to luck. . "
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"The Yule cat was manifested from rural Icelandic work tunes, existing as a way of forcing cowardly farmers to finish wool production. it was more strongly recorded in a poem written in the early 20th century by Jóhannes úr Kötlum."
Southeastern Europe
[ The atmosphere gets chillier the deeper into the early morning the sky plunges, soon to be illuminated by the low-albedo snow that lays like powdered sugar at the beginning of the season. The volume on the radio sits unmoved, yet the whiskey-smooth voice of the host seems to blur, the words becoming second thought yet the images still vivid. How were he to sleep at night knowing the dreams of every listener were to be of any other flavor than sweet tonight? ]
"Originating from the Balkans, are small unsightly goblins that exist for the mere purpose of inconvenience, and lack of adaptation. Winter forced the villagers inside, and the twelve days of Christmas that stretched out into January brought misfortune, and sometimes these goblins along as well. The presence of winter meant long, dark nights, unlit land now belonging to free roaming spirits that were thought to posses the strangely-acting animals. When things went wrong, the 'goblins' were often to blame."
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"Wild, dark, and Hairy, for twelve days a year the Kallikantzaroi emerge to terrorize Greek villages. Most well known for the trespassing, but not limited to, they're found in kitchens late at night stealing sausages. They flip tables, extinguish fires within peoples homes, and supposedly ride on the backs of innocent civilians at night—pulling their hair and carving deep claw marks into their skin. They torment village livestock and rot the crop on fertile land, the cacophony serving as melody to the bitter underground during what became a religious observation."
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"A tradition, like many, once tied to paganism. Solstice spirits blamed for the unruly circumstances of winter grew within the Byzantine writings to become 'mischievous Christmas demons'. Much to the pertain of the pagan customs it carried even after becoming tied to Christmas, people could ward off or remedy the misfortune by burning old shoes, keeping fires lit, hanging crosses forged of garlic or basil, and performing home cleansing rituals on Epiphany."
"I've found these stories of the most interesting among recounts of insipid human conspiracy and fear—time, after all, is the most valuable thing one can grant. Thus, I hope you've enjoyed yourself. Thankyou for tuning in tonight, everyone. I hope you'll allow me to fuel your restful drift into the throes of sleep next time as well. . ."
[ The sound of the listeners breathing, and the hosts presence muddle together, Finally. silence on the other end. the remnants of the back and forth between radio towers still hang in the air, but the host is nowhere to be heard for a long moment. By now, there isn't much to be attentive to, besides the final note, always delivered in some odd way.]
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". . . psst. Goodnight."
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