Despite all my best intentions, I’m still just me: a person beset with ghosts. Ghosts of so many things—intentions, emotions, lost loves, lost things, and always, always, always, my beloved dead.

Ghosts are always thicker and more full-bodied during this time of year. Their shadows grow limbs and teeth, and sometimes they are not friendly. I have to take extra care of my little heart, because it breaks so easily these days.

Forgive me for that.

I’ve been working hard on quite a few commissions and freelance projects, which means less time for comics about demons and art and hauntings and all the things that bring us together. I so appreciate the support you give me here, and I promise some new Christmas comics before this season is over.

Tonight is, of course, Krampus night. I hope you’re celebrating in ways both demonic and delightful. If you need ideas, feel free to revisit this old comic from last year. It’s a good’n.

You can also read up on other festive demonic traditions in my Christmas Demons book, which is now available in paperback! It’s still available in hardback too, but it appears that production is behind again, and the hardback might not reach you until Christmas Eve, or a few days before. This is obviously still a great option for gifting, but terrible if you want to celebrate Christmas Demon traditions throughout the entire month of December!

So, I decided to publish a paperback edition this year, for those of you who want your traditions earlier—and cheaper, too (inflation’s a bitch).

You can order either one here. Expect to receive the paperback sometime in the next few days if you order now. $16 plus tax.

If you’re in my Founding Tier, I’ll send you a signed book for free in the mail, so keep an eye on your inboxes for details! You can also have it sent to someone as a gift, if you don’t need a copy of your own. Watch your inbox!

As for what else is new on the Haunted Librarian front, I’m trying not to drown in the sea of possibility and grief that has recently opened up before me. I want to sit down and write about it properly, but my house is in disarray and I have company coming over tonight for soup and scary stories (and a bit of ruckus-raising, in true Krampus fashion).

I love you all. It’s been a delight to get to know some of you better as I draw up Krampus card commissions. Doodling your families has filled me with a kind of holiday cheer I didn’t know I needed. Thank you.

I really do need to put my house in order, so I’ll just leave you with a few old timey Krampus cards to put you in the proper festive mood, and then sign off.

Merry Krampus, my loves! Enjoy the hilarious and disturbing Krampuskarten, and don’t forget to leave your shoes out for St. Nicholas tonight.

With love and claws and fangs,

👹Becca Lee, Haunted Librarian👹

Here are those ridiculous cards.

You thought we were done with holiday demons for the season, didn’t you? Well, we’re wrapping up the yuletide with one of the most pesky, irritating demons of them all… the Kallikantzaroi. This comic is all new, meaning it’s not been posted anywhere else on the Internet, and it didn’t make it into the book. In fact, I finished drawing it only an hour ago!

The Kallikantzaroi—found in the Anatolian region—are known to turn up on Christmas Day and don’t leave until today, January 6th. That’s why they felt like an appropriate demon to leave you with—they’ve been sticking it out this whole time, like a crusty old Christmas tree. One part nuisance, one part disgusting—whole part fire hazard.

The Kallikantzaroi, like so many of our other demons, are most likely pre-Christian. Some folklorists think they may be related to the Greek god Dionysus, because they often appear like crazed, impish little satyrs. Their name could be related to the Greek words for “beautiful centaur,” which feels like a bit of a stretch, but it at least explains the fur and hooves.

Other scholars think they’re more like the pagan shapeshifters of old—that their name actually means something more like “black werewolf” or “black bloodsucker,” which is a fun image for the holidays. According to those traditions, the Kallikantzaroi spend most of the year as humans, and transform into wicked little goblins during the so-called “unbaptized days.”

Most traditions also locate these little fiends underground, where they supposedly are hard at work chopping down the Tree of Life. This tree, according to legend, supports the world as we know it. Each year, the Kallikantzaroi try to chop the thing down and end existence itself.

Each year they nearly get there, but that’s when Christmas Day arrives, and they’re allowed to roam the mortal realm with all the other demons and witch folk. They get so distracted doing mischief on the surface that they leave the Tree of Life alone until January 6th. By that point, the tree has healed itself, and the Kallikantzaroi must start all over again.

Such is the life of a wicked little goblin man.

If you want to be rid of the Kallikantzaroi this season, you can either wait them out (January 6th is almost over) or, as the comic says, toss a bunch of sausages and donuts on your roof. The idea is, they’ll be distracted by the food and forget to slip down the chimney to wreck your place. In some regions, sausages and meats were strung up inside the fireplace instead of thrown up on the roof.

Another rumor says that if you place a colander outside your door, the Kallikantzaroi will stop to count the holes in it. But, because three is a holy number, they have to stop at two each time and so lose count over and over again. Some stories say that they’re just so stupid that they can’t count all the holes and get stuck until morning.

In my research, I couldn’t find the original sources that linked the colander to the Kallikantzaroi, so it’s a little uncertain whether it’s actually part of Kallikantzaros lore. Still, using a colander to ward off wicked beings is a fairly common old wive’s tale, so it may turn out to be true for the Kallikantzaroi as well.

You’ll have to try it out and let me know if it works.

Despite being so very wicked, I have a bit of a soft spot for these nasty little goblin men. If your house is anything like mine, these past few weeks have probably felt like living in a house overrun with hordes of Kallikantzaroi—my little goblins have been staying up too late, wolfing down all the leftover ham, and tossing up the house like a chef salad. It’s all I can do to keep myself from throwing a pile of donuts on the roof and letting them have at it until the rooster crows.

The messy chaos of it is delightful and exhausting and so very real. There’s too much food and mess and tears and driving—and somehow, not enough of it all. I wonder if this is how it’ll always feel during the holidays, or if this is just what being in the sticky middles of parenthood feels like.

I wonder if you can relate, you out there. ❤️

I hope you enjoyed reading a few new festive comics this year, as well as the Christmas Demons book, for those of you who’ve bought it. I’ve been blown away by the positive response to the book—it’s been such a delight to hear about you sharing these stories with your families. I hope to have another collection out before next season, so let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see included.

Speaking of sharing, before I go, I want to mention an awesome opportunity to win some free stuff this week. It’s my dear friend Ashmae’s birthday and she’s running an incredible giveaway over on instagram. A signed copy of my book and some Haunted Librarian stickers are in the mix, plus some amazing activity books, a hilarious adult coloring book about dirty birds, some all-natural salve and skincare, and (star of star prizes) free entry into Ashmae’s extremely popular writing course, Mine to Tell.

If you know me in real life, you know that the folks who make all these wonderful things are dear friends of mine—it’s such a gift to be included alongside them in Ashmae’s giveaway, and winning all this would seriously make your entire year. Every single thing is made with love, so hurry and enter before January 12th to get a chance at it.

I hope you’re recovering well from the excesses of the holidays, and that your resolutions are both daring and wicked, and that your new year is stuffed with all the best things—like a fat Christmas sausage. You made 2022 the best year yet—I’m so glad we’re going into 2023 together, come what may.

In wickedness and health,

👹Becca Lee, Haunted Librarian👹

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If you follow me on instagram, you’ll know that I posted this comic almost an entire week ago. When I create new comics, I usually post the comic there, then post it again here with more background history and commentary a few hours later. It takes me about that long to compile all my notes, add links, images, etc.

But, about an hour after posting this comic on instagram, I was flat on my back with one of the worst fever-headache combos I’ve ever had in my life. Fearing COVID, I locked myself in my room, crawled into bed, and scarcely left it since last Wednesday (except to get tested for COVID—3x now, all negative).

The good news is, I’m on the mend. I’m sitting upright, I’m eating toast, and I’m catching up on all my messages from the past week. I knew I still needed to post this comic, so I pulled up all the material and started to get into it. That’s when I realized:

This is the demon that, if you even say its name, will curse you with devastating illness.

I’ve been sick for a week and I have ONLY MYSELF TO BLAME.

(kidding… but, proceed with caution, I guess… maybe pass some incense over your phone after reading—smudge your laptop, idk. Put those crystals you bought on Etsy to work).

Now, if you’re still interested, I’ll talk some more about this plague-bringing demon.

The name of this demon actually stems from a regional word, knoggelvi, which translates to “Devil of the Sea.” It’s unclear where this grisly hobgoblin got its unique form, but it most likely evolved from earlier Celtic myths about malevolent water-dwelling horses. There have been stories of half-horse, half-fish creatures that dwell in the sea in many places throughout the Western world, and this demon may be an evil evolution of those mythic beings.

I actually think that this demon is… cute? In a deranged sort of way? The oversized arms, the goofy single eye, the big ol’ floppy baby head, the fact that he inexplicably has no skin.. come on! He’s endearing! Even if he looks like a secret government cloning experiment gone wrong, I kind of love him. I mean, he’s probably wondering why he exists, too.

I also love the whole legend itself, which probably served as an embodiment of the Orkney people’s fears—that illness and misfortune could strike at the most vulnerable time of year, wintertime. Such misfortune could leave them without the resources to survive the rest of the season. The idea that moving water could drive it away might be because moving water is related to both cleanliness and good health. That’s probably why I like this legend so much—it shows that even before things like germ theory existed, humans told themselves stories about how to avoid pestilence and plague.

Unlike us, they also had disembodied demons to blame for their misfortunes, which prevented them from turning on each other. I’m not going to moralize on that, but I do want to say that the way we survive is by being part of a village, and by sharing stories about all the evils that exist out there in the dark, open sea, and by taking care of one another.

I feel so lucky to be part of so many wonderful villages, including this one. It’s a relief to be able to step away from my comic for a bit to rest up and not feel like a slave to some algorithm—so thank you for being here, for reading and supporting and doing everything that you do.

With rising numbers and filling hospitals, I hope things are not too terrifying, wherever your village may be. But most of all, I hope that if you’re isolating or isolated, know that if no other village will have you, mine is always open. 🖤

Much love,

🐴Becca Lee, the Haunted Librarian🐴

I hope you like these last few demons of the Yule season (which continues thru January 6). Enjoy. 🖤

Yep, it’s Grýla! Number 9 in our 12 demons of Xmas. Grýla is a hardworking ogre mother with a layabout husband and no help from her 13 children, the unruly Yule Lads. They also have a family pet—the flesh-eating giant Yule Cat.

They’re just one big, Icelandic Yule family.

(You can read more about Yule Cat here and the Yule lads here).

Grýla herself is said to be a terrifying, withered, old giantess who feasts on the flesh of naughty children once a year, specifically on Xmas Eve. Some descriptions give her nine tails and goat horns and eyes that are placed literally on the back of her head, but I figure her life is hard enough taking care of her scores of troll children, so I gave her a more down-to-earth look.

According to legend, Grýla descends from her Icelandic mountain home to snatch up all the naughty children for a great big stew, which she eats with her lazy drunk of a husband, Leppalúði. Some years, there supposedly aren’t enough naughty children for the pair to eat, so she and her flesh-hungry husband starve to death in the cold of winter.

Unfortunately, they can both be resurrected if they’re given just a taste of naughty child flesh, so the threat of Grýla the giantess is ever-present, even when Icelandic children have been on their best behavior all year.

If Grýla seems like an odd fit for the Xmas season, that might be because the legend of the ogress from the mountains is actually older than the traditions that put her at your doorstep on Xmas Eve. There are stories of Grýla and Leppalúði that predate Christianity, and as it turns out, Leppalúði wasn’t Grýla’s first husband. There were at least two before him, but Grýla supposedly grew bored of them and ate them both.

She and her previous husbands—and Leppalúði, too—have more children than just the Yule Lads. Going by the stories, Grýla has literally dozens of children between the three of her husbands. She and Leppalúði have at least twenty.

In the end, she’s just a hardworking mom trying to have it all.

And you know, eat a stew of naughty children.

So make sure you lock your windows and doors this winter, and don’t entertain any giant beggars who may visit your doorstep.

Happy Yule, friends.

Much love,

🖤Becca Lee, the Haunted Librarian🖤

And as always, if you know someone who might enjoy this newsletter, feel free to share.

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Day 7 of the 12 Demons of Xmas is everyone’s favorite pastoral ghoul, the Mari-Lwyd of Wales! (Pronounced “mah-ree loyd,” for non-Welsh speakers out there.

Like many folk legends, there isn’t a clear origin story for the Mari-Lwyd. One Welsh translation styles her as the Grey Mare, which links her to the various pale horses in Celtic and British mythology, many of whom can cross over to the underworld, usually with some kind of ghostly rider or groom.

Other scholars think she has more to do with Mary, the mother of Jesus, which is why she comes out at Christmastime. There’s even a creepy story about a pregnant horse who was turned out of the stable so that Mary would have space to birth her baby. The pregnant horse wandered the night, in search of a place to bear her foal, and the Mari-Lwyd is a tribute to this homeless would-be horse mom.

Still others believe that Mari-Lwyd is a relic of some long-forgotten pagan winter tradition that predates Christmas celebrations. Though there’s no evidence that this is the case, it’s just as likely as any explanation for this wandering, unsettled horse demon.

If you want to bring this tradition home, just pull out a white sheet and decorate it with ribbons and bells. Learn the traditional Mari-Lwyd song (linked here), or just partake in the grand old Welsh tradition of pwnco: an exchange of rude rhymes between the Mari-Lwyd and the person denying her entry (the saltier, the better).

And if you don’t have a horse skull of your own to decorate, make one out of paper! I made a prototype mask out of paper, and copied the pattern for you to print out and decorate with your kith and kin during these last few days of the festive season. Nothing like horse skulls to make your Xmas celebrations complete! The images are below, at the end of this message.

If you’re truly brave, wear these masks out caroling—and don’t leave until they’ve given you some food, some age-appropriate beverages, and maybe some spare change to give to charity, if they’re feeling generous. (Make sure you’re well-stocked with rude retorts if they’re not!)

If you want to learn more about the magical Mari-Lwyd, go and check out the official Mari-Lwyd page of Wales. They’ve done tons of work documenting this tradition and keeping it alive for Welsh folks everywhere (like me!) and we should be grateful for all they’ve done to preserve such a delightful and spooky gal for our Xmas festivities. They’ve even gone around to Welsh primary schools to make masks and teach the next generation of Welsh children about how to keep the Mari-Lwyd tradition alive.

If you want to watch a heartwarming video about the whole thing, watch this. It brings a tear to me eye, and kindles the ol’ Christmas spirit like nothing else.

I hope Mari-Lwyd brings as much joy to your heart as it does mine.

She’s truly like nothing else.

Nadolig Llawen, my friends!

🐴Becca Lee, the Haunted Librarian🐴

Here are the mask patterns! There are two sides, so be sure to print them both. It will probably work best on cardstock. Feel free to send in pics of your Mari-Lwyds, if you do make these! You can reply directly to this email or tag me in your photos in instagram. 🖤

Happy Yule, my friends! I hope you like this comic about the Yule Lads, who all hail from the snowy mountains of Iceland. As you can tell, we’re a little late in introducing these 13 lads. The first lad (Sheep-cote Clod) turned up on December 12th, and if you go by the dates, you’ll see that Window-Peeper is supposed to visit today.

All of the lads stay until Christmas Day, and then each one leaves in the order it came—one per day. That means that you have some number of lads visiting your house every day between December 12th and January 6th, causing mischief and pulling pranks. You might have to keep a close watch on your bowls, your spoons, your pots and pans, your skyr, your sheep, your meat, and your candles—all the way through December and into January. (Oh, and if you’re confused about why Candle-Swiper is so obsessed with candles, it’s because they used to be made of tallow, and therefore could be eaten.)

Prior to the 17th century, the Yule Lads were a bit more varied from place to place, and while some of them were benign pranksters, there were others who kidnapped and devoured naughty children (yes, this is a theme among our winter demons). These versions of the Yule Lads were more like their giantess mother, Gryla, who is a child-eating monster to this day.

Now, the Yule Lads are more mischievous than sinister, and will even leave treats in the shoes of good children at night. If you’re naughty, it’s rotten potatoes (which is ten thousand times worse than lumps of coal or bundles of sticks—sorry, Krampus and Santa.)

There’s not really anything you can do to keep the Yule Lads away. They get in, they cause mischief, and they leave when they’re good and ready—no sooner.

Also, if you see someone peeping in your windows tonight, don’t be alarmed! It’s just one of the lads. Just set your shoes out by the window, and he’ll leave you some goodies.

I hope you have a merry and festive Yule, and that you’re doing something to bring in the light on this the darkest night of the year. You all mean so much to me, and I’m so glad we get to share stories about tricksters and demons as the days get shorter and the nights get colder.

Happy Yule, my loves!

🕯Becca Lee, the Haunted Librarian🕯

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I have to say, Hans Trapp has been one of the harder Christmas demons to draw for this series. There are so many aspects to the traditions surrounding Hans Trapp that are grisly and bizarre, and I just wasn’t sure that the comic elements would translate. I drew so many versions of this comic that were profoundly unfunny, so hopefully this version was at least worth a good giggle or two.

Hans Trapp was also a difficult character to research. He’s not as common as Krampus or Black Peter, so there isn’t as much documentation about where he came from and why he’s associated with Christmas.

Folklorists suspect Hans was based on real-life Hans von Trotha, a wealthy knight who was born in 1450 and died in 1503. This Hans was entrusted with two castles in parts of present-day France and Germany. He had a disagreement with a local abbot over his possession of one of the castles, which the the abbot occupied and refused to give up.

In retaliation, Hans von Trotha decided to build a dam, which stopped the water supply to the village below. The abbot complained and Hans tore down the dam, but this flooded the village, causing even more destruction than the original dam.

After years of the abbot’s complaints, the Pope himself summoned Hans von Trotha to be questioned about his loyalty to the church. He refused, and instead wrote a letter accusing the Pope of immorality. In response, he was excommunicated and had an Imperial Ban placed upon him by the Emperor.

Hans probably got his demonic reputation from the defenders of the Catholic Church—anyone who dared challenge the Pope must have been absolutely black-hearted and evil. So, after a few decades, the story of a property dispute between a knight and an abbot became story about a power-hungry cannibalistic Baron who dealt with the devil and dressed as a scarecrow to lie in wait for unsuspecting travelers.

All this aside, it’s still not clear why Hans became associated with Christmastime.

If I were to make a guess, it’s because—in some stories—Hans Trapp is actually resurrected by Jesus after he’s killed by God’s lightning. (That wacky God!) After his resurrection, Hans pledges to serve Jesus for eternity, in gratitude for salvation from his sins.

Apparently, Hans wasn’t required to give up the cannibalism to hang out with Jesus full time. In fact, it seems like his cannibalism is more like an asset, especially during the Christmas season.

Now Jesus is, you know, kind of a Christmastime A-lister, so Hans Trapp probably got wrapped up in the holiday through his connection to our lord and savior.

In fact, parts of Europe, Santa Claus and St. Nicholas don’t deliver presents at all. Instead, a white-skinned, fresh-faced version of Jesus does the job. He’s called the Christ child, and he often appears dressed in white—sometimes with wings, sometimes without. The Christ child can actually be anywhere from age two to twenty-two, and he’s pretty much always blonde. Sometimes he’s not even the actual Jesus, he’s a young angel instead, heralding the arrival of Jesus.

He (or she) came to the house and rang a bell to announce their arrival. The Christ child distributed gifts while Hans Trapp stuffed the naughties into a sack to eat later.

So, imagine growing up in France in the 1500s-1800s, waiting for a young, nubile Jesus to bring a cannibalistic scarecrow to your house during Christmas.

Trés festif.

These days, Hans is more likely to appear alongside St. Nicholas or Papa Noël. He tends to be dressed more like a deranged wild man—with a raggedy appearance and a sooty face (because of the lightning).

Sometimes he wears a dark hood and carries a bundle of the the classic Santa’s-little-helper whipping sticks.

Unfortunately, white people seem really excited about darkening their faces for basically any excuse under the sun, and some have used the Hans Trapp tradition as an excuse to don blackface.

Now, if there’s anything I want you to take away from this Christmas demon series, it’s this: we never, ever, ever, ever, ever wear blackface.

Never.

Never, ever, ever.

Did I say that enough times? Never, ever, ever wear blackface. Not as a joke, not to dress up as any character from any story, ever. It doesn’t matter if the blackface is supposed to represent soot, or dirt, or to depict a beloved Black Christmas character (á la Zwarte Piet in the Netherlands)—we never, ever, ever wear blackface.

AND ESPECIALLY not when we dress up as a sadistic cannibal.

THERE. It’s been said.

So, if you choose to incorporate Hans Trapp into your annual Christmas lore, be sure NOT TO WEAR BLACKFACE.

Or you just might end up on Hans Trapp’s naughty list.

Joyeux Noël, everyone. Thank you so much for being here.

Until the next Christmas demon,

🖤 Becca Lee, the Haunted Librarian 🖤

this Sunday is Krampus Night! What better way to celebrate than in true Krampus fashion?

I come from a German family, so I have a soft spot for this particular Christmas demon. I love that Krampus has become a bit of a celebrity in the witchcraft craze of the Internet. (Who wouldn’t love a Satanic goat-man specifically devoted to the Xmas season?)

If you’ve been following me long enough (before ye olde Substack newsletter), you’ll recognize this comic from last year’s 12 Demons of Xmas series. I started it at the beginning of December 2020, and winter demon comics all planned out to end right on Christmas Day.

Then, midway through December, my dear friend Annie died. It was sooner than we expected, and we were all at such a loss. I had lots of unused material that I could’ve posted, but in the midst of such grief I had no stomach for Christmas demons, so I let the project go unfinished.

Now—a year later—I feel like I’m back in the creative saddle. Plus, most of you haven’t seen this content before, so I don’t feel too bad about resurrecting it for 2021. I’ll be posting more stories and tasty tidbits on the Substack, too, so even if you’ve seen some of the comics before, the series will have some new content for your hungry little art bellies. ❤️

And this year, because it’s nearly Krampus Night, I thought I’d start with the old German Christmas beast—Krampus himself.

So… who is Krampus, besides a lovable, Satanic goat-man with wiry fur and a forked tongue?

Unlike the other imps and demons on my list, Krampus is perhaps the most recognizable Christmas demon in the world. He usually appears on the Eve of St. Nicholas Day (December 5th) to scare all the naughty children and punish them for their misdeeds throughout the year.

There’s no official consensus on when and where Krampus traditions began, but folklorists believe he’s actually pre-Christian, which means he’s one of the oldest demons to be featured on this here comic. He’s pre-medieval, pre-Catholocism, pre-everything. He was most likely a pagan diety who—like so many others—got roped into Christian winter celebrations. He eventually became what he is today—the demonic sidekick to St. Nicholas.

While St. Nicholas (St. Nikolaus in Germany) is famous for giving gifts and rewards to the righteous, it’s Krampus’s job to strike fear into the hearts of the wicked. He does this by jangling his chains, stuffing naughty children into a sack, or whipping them with a switch or bundle of sticks.

In the Alpine regions of the world, Krampus Night (or Krampusnacht) has become one of the finest wicked festivals of the year. People dress up in elaborate Krampus costumes and parade through the streets, howling and jangling and causing all sorts of merry mischief. The parade is usually led by one—or many—St. Nicholases who hand out sweets and other little gifts as they wend their way through the town, followed by hordes of ambling Krampus folk.

We don’t have a Krampus parade where we live, so we have to celebrate in our own way. We decorate Krampus masks and romp and yell and chase each other around the house with little homemade switches. We also have some giant jingle bells that we jangle instead of chains. We try to honor and keep the Krampus spirit in our wicked hearts, now and always.

Afterwards, we settle down with some spiced cider and tell stories about St. Nikolaus. There’s a story that I particularly love where a trio of sisters are turned into sausages because they’re poor and can’t pay their debts. St. Nikolaus—who inherited a vast fortune—resurrects them, blood and bone, from the twisted sausage meat, and pays their bills.

A true Christmas miracle.

In some versions, it’s a trio of boys or brothers, and instead of being made into sausages, they’re chopped up with an axe and pickled in a barrel. St. Nikolaus does what all wealthy folks should do—pays the bill and resurrects the boys from their briney fate.

After these stories, we set our shoes by the fireplace (in some households, kids set their shoes by the door or beneath a window). In the morning, the shoes are filled with chocolate coins and oranges and Haribo gummy bears from St. Nikolaus.

If the children have been naughty (they always are) there’s also a little bundle of sticks for them, in the tradition of Krampus. In some regions of the world, Krampus bundles are displayed in a place of prominence throughout the year, to remind children to be on their best behavior, or else Krampus will come and beat them on Krampus Night.

Maybe we’ll try that this year.

However you go about it, we highly recommend the celebration of Krampus Night and St. Nicholas Day, even if you’re not German or Catholic or anything. We all need a little demonic inspiration in our lives, especially at this time of year.

To help you get started, I decided to make a Krampus mask that you can print at home and make for every member of your wicked family. If you don’t know what it looks like to raise a ruckus, you can always turn on some rowdy music, howl, or sing Jingle Bells at the top of your lungs. Just be generally obnoxious and evil. (Most children do not struggle with this part).

(Scroll to the bottom of this email to access the image for this printable mask. Just print it in landscape on quality card stock, or attach cardboard backing to give it some structure).

If you have no children, consider toasting to the night with Krampus’s traditional drink of schnapps, gluhwein, or hot spiced cider. Or, give someone a naughty Krampus card (called Krampuskarten in Germany).

Krampus cards have been around since the late nineteenth century. They often feature a toothy, devilish Krampus looming menacingly over weeping children, or carting off buxom ladies on their backs. I truly miss when Christmas was this terrifying.

Of course, you can also ring in St. Nicholas Day by giving money to the poor, or paying someone’s bill. Donate to your favorite mutual aid fund. Leave an unmarked envelope of cash in a mailbox. Pay for the person behind you in the drive thru or grocery store checkout.

If you’re too shy to do something in public, go pay the bills for my dear friend Jonah Welch. Jonah is an incredibly gifted trans/non-binary artist who is currently paying their way through school. Their Venmo is @jonahwelch and their PayPal is Jonah.m.welch@gmail. They also have a patreon for their art, poetry, and writing. I am so in love with the things they make and really love supporting them on patreon. Look at this beautiful work:

They give so much support and relief to folks with their art and activism, they could really use the financial support right now. They also organized this stunning campaign last year to put up trans-affirming billboards across different cities throughout the US, using artwork from trans artists. All the designs are beautiful, and here’s the one Jonah designed:

So seriously, give them a follow on ig (@jonahwelch), sign up for their patreon, or send them some $$ on the apps.

It’s what St. Nick would do.

Krampus Night is Sunday December 5th and St. Nicholas Day is December 6th, so be sure to have your masks assembled and ready, and don’t forget to leave your shoes out for St. Nikolaus to fill with treats.

And thank you for joining me (once again) on my 12 demonic days of Xmas. There’s much more to come, and I hope you enjoy it.

Merry Krampus, everyone. If you use the masks, feel free to take a pic and send it to me. Reply to this message directly or tag me on instagram @haunted_librarian. I would love, love, love to see you raising a ruckus on Krampus Night, or celebrating St. Nicholas Day in whatever way you choose.

With all my love and wickedness,

👹Becca Lee, the Haunted Librarian👹

(Here is the mask for you to enjoy):