Response to Prompt #47,
Deck the Scrawls and Sleigh this Prompt.
When I first read through the list of holiday-related words, the term "krampus" jumped out at me, and never left. I knew I had to use that as my starting point. For some reason Kafka's Metamorphosis came to mind, and at the same time my 6th graders were reading a play called "The Boy Who Lived With the Bears," a Native American folktale. I decided to lean on the folktale structure, but start and end with a nod to Kafka. As I took on my new walking program, I kept having new ideas floating my way. The day at Lakes where I walked the new Children's Garden for the first time helped to boost my story ideas. Here is my quite belated holiday tale.
Metamorphosis
(Kafka meets a Native
American folktale)
It was the morning of the Winter Solstice when Medgar
Samuels woke from his dark dreams and found he had been transformed into a
horrible creature: a Krampus.
“What happened to me?” he wondered, as he looked at his hoofed
feet and witnessed his long pointed tongue falling out of his mouth. This was
no longer a dream. This man who spent his days deep in the bowels of the
library of a law firm as a head researcher, a man who should have a family of
his own, but instead was supporting his parents and sister, this man whose life
was one long dull pattern, suddenly was fighting to figure out his own body.
“Maybe if I sleep a little bit longer,” he thought to
himself. But that was not to be, as right then his mother called him for breakfast.
“Medgar, your oatmeal is ready.”
Medgar fidgeted with the horns on his head, trying to figure
out how he could possibly present himself at the breakfast table, being half
goat and half demon. Who knew that the Krampus was a real thing that walked the
earth, Medgar mused to himself. But there was nothing in him that wanted to
grab little naughty children.
Instead, he tried to think of how he could put off his mother which he
knew was close to impossible.
“Medgar – your oatmeal is getting cold,” she said, slowly
opening the door. He quickly threw the bed blanket over his head. “I’ll be right out mother. Give me a
few minutes.”
“Get this silly blanket off your head,” she said, giving it
a solid tug. Medgar had no time to think about what to do; instead, he witnessed
her face go from his loving mother’s morning gaze to disbelief, then to horror.
It was clear that he was hideous beyond belief. She ran from the room screaming
for his father, and Medgar shriveled up on the bed. He knew no good would come
of his father’s involvement.
Mr. Samuels came into the room with a baseball bat, and
began whacking the Krampus, chasing him out of the room, out of the house, and
down the driveway. “Get out of here, you scourge. You’re scaring your
mother.” Medgar hid behind a tree
across the driveway. Their home was a bit remote, as it was at one time a farm
on a wooded plot of land, with a few acres of fields. His father was never a
successful farmer, and quit making any attempts at it once Medgar graduated and
was able to secure a decent job with a salary ample to support an entire family.
Medgar watched as his mother and sister came out of the
house, both crying. His father set down the baseball bat and comforted his
mother.
“Is he gone?” his mother asked between sobs.
“Yes. And he’d
better not come back,” his father said to her as he ushered her back into the
house
Medgar saw his little sister Coral stayed behind, staring in
his direction. He wanted to call out to her, but thought better of it. She was
in her late teens, and as much as he loved her, he knew her love remained with
their mother. Coral rarely left her side.
Not knowing what else to do, and feeling the cold of the
December day, Medgar walked slowly to the dilapidated barn to find a warm spot.
There was still some hay left in the barn from the days of cows and goats, some
tools, and a few other items. After the upsetting morning, he decided just to
hide out in the structure until he could figure out a next step. He spent the
day drifting in and out of sleep, feeling hunger and loneliness, but not
knowing what to do.
Nightfall came, and he nestled down into the old manger,
wrapped his arms around himself, and drifted off into light dreams.
Morning came. Shaking himself out of his dream, it took him
a minute to remember how and why he was where he was. “Well, I still have the
horns, the hooves, and the tongue.” His hope that perhaps it had all been a
horrible dream was dashed. It was then he realized two rabbits were sitting in
the barn looking straight at him with large brown eyes. Once they were spotted,
they hopped away, slipping through a crack by the barn door.
Later in the morning, Coral came knocking on the door, calling
his name. He told her to come in. The sun was out, although the air was brisk,
and she was bundled up with a container under her arm.
“I was hoping I’d find you here. I brought you some of the
stew from last night. Mother and Father left for a quick trip to the store, and
I stayed behind so I could bring you some food. Are you alright?”
What was the point of being strong? “No, I’m not alright.
I’m….I’m…a Krampus. How can I be alright?”
Coral looked at him closely from head to foot. “Do you feel like grabbing children?”
“Heck, no. I’m not even a good Krampus.”
She seemed to have nothing else to say. “Well, I’d better
get back. They will be home soon. Take care of yourself.” And with that, she swung her wool scarf
around her face, and left the barn.
The stew tasted wonderful, the gravy thick with onions and
succulent meat, but Medgar could barely eat for crying in it. He felt an
overwhelming sense of self-pity.
“Whatever will I do?”
Morning came. This time when Medgar awoke there were two
rabbits, a squirrel, and a raccoon looking at him. This time they didn’t leave
when he saw them. He finally whispered, “Hello.”
And he thought he heard four small voices say hello back. Right
then, there was a sound outside, and the animals scattered in all directions,
finding ways to leave the barn. Shortly thereafter, Coral came back in.
“I brought you a couple of sandwiches. It is almost time for
Christmas. Do you think you’ll be home soon?”
Medgar wondered what kind of question that was. It wasn’t he
that chose to leave.
“Will Mother and Father have me back?”
Coral’s eyes shifted. “Well, not if you’re still a Krampus.
It makes Mother too afraid, and Father, well, he doesn’t even want to speak
your name.”
The news hit him hard, like being hit with the baseball bat
all over again. Medgar held out his arms palms out to show her his status. “I’m
still a Krampus. I guess that
answers your question.” And this
time, he turned and walked away from her. She left the barn quietly.
***
Another day passed, and then it was Christmas Eve. Medgar
awoke before sunrise to a commotion – several small animals were in the barn,
but he knew he had heard some wings. That’s when he realized there was a Barred
Owl up in the rafters.
He heard a voice: and it seemed to be coming from the owl.
“We want to show you something. But you must come now.”
Medgar didn’t quite understand. He thought maybe he was
hallucinating. Right then the owl flew down, barely tapping him with the tip of
his wing, the wingspan creating a panic inside of him causing him to run to the
door. The rabbits, raccoons, and
squirrels were gathered around him, all following the lead of the owl. They
took him into the forest, and there, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, was a
beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Lights and baubles and pinecones and
stings of popcorn and cranberries and nuts and candy. His sister had not
returned after their last conversation, so Medgar was very, very hungry. He looked at the animals, whom seemed
to nudge him forward. He approached the tree and started to pick off pieces of
popcorn and pecans and walnuts, all manner of small treats that felt like the
greatest blessing he had ever received.
And soon, he heard music off in the distance. Christmas
Carols. And he realized he could hear the thoughts of the animals. The raccoons
were saying it was time to get some sleep. The squirrels felt the need to
search for more food, as did the rabbits. He heard them referring over and over
again to Gary, but he was having a hard time figuring out who Gary was. Maybe
the Barred Owl?
Medgar looked at them all with a feeling he had never felt
before. It was warm and like he wanted to take each one of them and hug them
close. A couple of them nodded their heads to him, and then went on their way.
The sun was coming up, and Medgar knew better than to be found in the woods in
the daylight. No telling who might
come by, and what they would do to him.
He nestled back into the barn. Sometime while he was gone,
his sister had left him a small fruitcake. She wrote on the card Merry Christmas. And that was all.
As Medgar settled back into this dwelling, he wondered out
loud where the music had been coming from. He had no answer. But he found
himself gently singing, “The First Noel” and then “Hark! The Herald” and other
songs he knew. It was Christmas, after all. That had not changed.
***
It must have been the singing that gave Medgar some kind of
strength of mind, because on Christmas morning he removed himself from the barn
and watched from the tree for his parents to leave for church. He saw them
coming out of the house and heading for the car, and he called to them.
“Merry Christmas, my family.”
His mother let out a loud scream, his sister sheltered the
mother’s eyes with her scarf and helped her into the car, while his father ran
back to get the baseball bat he had left leaning against the house. Medgar
decided to stand firm, be a man, confront his father about his abandonment on
this most important day of love, yet nothing stopped his father from battering
him and swearing, telling Medgar to get away and never come back, they have no
use for a Krampus, they have no use for him.
Any strength he should have in his new form should have
helped, but it didn’t. Medgar took the beating with the bat, but the beating
inside had been much worse.
He stumbled and crawled back to the barn, bruised and
bleeding, heaving sobs and calling out for mercy, for God to take his life now,
he had no reason to live.
And the animals were waiting for him. They gathered around, and once more he
knew that they wanted him to know something. And just then, he noticed an elderly man standing in the
corner of the barn.
“Who are you?” Medgar asked, his voice shaking from fear and
pain.
The man had a gentle wrinkled face, wire glasses, and a halo
of white hair. He coughed a deep, rumbling cough, and answered. “I’m Gary.”
So! There was a Gary. It dawned on Medgar slowly that he had
actually been hearing the animals speak. What kind of magical world was he
living in?
Gary coughed again. “I’d like to invite you back to my
cottage. It is small, but warm, and I have everything we need. I can make you
some tea, and share my Christmas ham with you. Will you come?”
“Are you sure?
I mean, look at me.”
Gary looked at the animals, then up at the owl whom had been
sitting in the rafters the entire time. Medgar got the feeling the owl had
orchestrated this somehow. But how?
“You need us. What is your name?”
“My name is Medgar. And what do you mean, us?”
Gary coughed again, then smiled. “Medgar, there is a world
available to us any time. It is here in nature. Let me show you what I mean.
Please come home with me.”
And Medgar did. He left immediately with Gary, followed by
the animals.
He did not take the fruitcake.
***
Gary’s place was small, but after having slept in a cold
barn in a manger, it felt like heaven on earth. He was able to clean up his
cuts and bruises, put an ice pack on his sore head, and relax in a chair that
reclined. Gary made him a cup of lavender and blackberry tea.
There were no baseball bats.
Instead, there was a warm fire, a delicious Christmas meal of
sliced ham, sweet potatoes, Brussel sprouts coated with maple syrup, and fresh-baked
pumpkin pie. Music played in the cottage and was also broadcast out into the
forest area. “Ah,” Medgar realized to himself, “Gary is the one behind the tree
and the music I heard.”
He then asked Gary, “What did you mean about the world
available to us. What world?”
Gary then proceeded to tell him about his life: how he had
fallen on hard times and found the forest, and how the animals had quietly invited
him to fix up this cottage in the woods, and how they had taken care of each
other through the years. He told Medgar about the Children’s Garden at the
local park he tended, it was his job year-round, planting flowers, keeping the
displays fresh, keeping it clean and inviting for the young ones. “One thing I’ve learned is that
transitions have to begin in the heart. Until I connected with those animals
and the flowers and the trees, I was a lost soul. In nature everything has a
purpose and it serves. And it can be the same for humans. We just don’t see
it.”
Then he said something that rattled Medgar.
“But now I’m sick. Inoperable lung cancer. I am not sure who
will take care of the garden when I’m gone.”
In that instant, Medgar knew.
***
The weeks passed. Medgar stayed in the cottage for the most
part, drinking Gary’s specialty tea, and slowly healing all of his wounds. The
animals came around quite a bit, and he was able to pet them and converse with
them – he spoke to them out loud, and he could hear their responses. And
slowly, little by little, the horns shrunk, his hooves turned back into feet,
and his tongue returned to the normal size.
Medgar was no longer a Krampus. And he knew what he had to
do next.
***
“Teach me all you can about the garden,” Medgar asked Gary
in late February. He could see that Gary was winding down, that he probably was
not going to make it much longer with the cancer. “Teach me. I want to take
care for the garden.”
Gary smiled his biggest smile yet. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They only had a few weeks. Then Gary was gone.
***
On a brilliant May morning, the garden was filled with
children playing in the fountain, looking for animal tracks, dancing on the
little play stage, and skipping down the trails. Medgar was able to slip away
out behind a tool shed, where something was about to occur. The day before, he
had discovered a pupa, a butterfly chrysalis, and he sensed that the moment was
coming for it to emerge.
And he made it there just in time. The butterfly had already
moved free of its chrysalis, but its wings were still folded against its side
from having been in the pupa. Medgar did not move for over two hours, waiting
and watching the butterfly slowly pump blood into its wings so it could fly. Time meant nothing. He was in awe.
As he stood there watching, he thought of his journey: the
manger, the beatings, the animals, the owl, the beautiful Christmas tree and music,
Gary, and the changes in his own heart that had brought him to the garden, to
this place where he was now free. And right then, the butterfly lifted its
wings and stretched, flying up to its new dreams and good intentions, off to
find his new destination, and the life he deserved
