12 Days of Fiction, Day Twelve: A Family Affair

Snowflakes drifted among the heavy smoke from the chimney of the house in the deep of the forest. The visitor nodded, though he knew the resident was home, and walked up to the porch. A hand gloved in black rapped on the door.

“It’s open, Nick!” came a voice from the inside. “Come in, I cannot go now!”

The visitor opened the door. He was broad shouldered and tall, and dressed in a heavy coat to fend off the cold.

“Take off your coat and hang it by the fire, Nick,” came the voice again.

Nick took off his coat and briefly shook the snow off it, then walked in and placed it on the hanger. The house was warm with the heat from a lively fire: The living room was illuminated with so many candles it was almost impossible to count (but Nick counted them nevertheless: two hundred and fifty-four). Nick saw neat row after row of books in the library: he reckoned there was a whole new section since the last time he had visited. A table was set for two, all cutlery immaculate, the glasses glinting in the candlelight.

But what really caught his attention was the delicious smell. Nick nostrils’ flared out with pleasure. The silhouette of a large figure moved at the far side of the hell, where the kitchen was. A pot was boiling on the stove, and something huge was in the oven.

“Kram, old friend, that smells delicious,” Nick said. He approached the kitchen zone, rubbing his hands to help warm them.

The silhouette turned. The owner of the house was covered in a matte fur. His hands were clawed, and he had a pointy tail. His head was crowned by two horns that seemed to grow just above two yellow, slitted eyes.

“Kram, you look good,” Nick said.

“You know, if it was anybody else, like Jack,” Kram said, “I’d get angry. But I know you always speak the truth, Nick.”

Nick patted his chest.

“You do look nice,” Kram continued. “Even a bit younger, perhaps? Are those some brown hairs in your beard?”

“Perhaps,” Nick answered. “You know how it goes, it doesn’t really depend on me.”

“You tell me. I think I’ll be stuck with this,” and Kram pointed at himself, “forever. But that’s how things are.”

Nick nodded, silently.

“Thanks for the compliment, by the way,” Kram said. “For the smell, I mean. Sit down, the soup’s ready. Oh, will the guys out there be all right?”

Nick was already sitting down.

“You know your barn is more than adequate. They’ll be more than all right. I’ve seen their food and water. Thank you.”

“Ah, that’s nothing. Here, try this, will you?”

Kram served two large bowls of soup, with a surprising delicacy for his claws, and sat in front of Nick. Nick sipped some of his soup and whistled.

“You know I recall all the meals you’ve cooked all these years, Kram, but this… this is amazing. How can you do it?”

“You know,” Kram said. “You actually spend the year working and your special night working very hard. I basically have nothing to do until my fortnight. So I read,” and he pointed to his library, “and cook,” and he pointed to his kitchen. “Glad you like it.”

“Like it? I’d ask you for the recipe, if I didn’t know this has nothing to do with the recipe itself. I’d have to hire you to be our cook.”

“Speaking of which,” Kram said, sipping his own soup, “this doesn’t have to be a guys only affair, you know. I wouldn’t mind greeting your wife from time to time.”

“Fair enough, but you know how she is,” Nick apologized. “Truth be told, our employees… are not to be trusted if left unchecked. Tell you what: next year, we’ll try to squeeze a day off for them and close the factory, so we two can come visit you. Would that be all right?”

“That would be nice, thanks. I’d like to come visit you, but you know it’s impossible.”

“Yes, yes.”

They finished the soup, and Kram stood and walked to the oven.

“You’ve got to try this,” he said.

“It cannot be much better,” Nick replied.

But it was. The taste of the venison was unbelievable, and Nick told Kram so.

“You’ve surpassed yourself! This… well, you know me, and you’ve left me speechless. I bow to you, sir!”

Kram smiled with a mouth that sported too many fangs.

***

They finished their evening chatting by the fire with a cup of liquor in their hands, until a clock chimed twelve times.

“I’ve got to go, Kram,” Nick said, standing up.

“I know. I’ll fetch your coat. Will you need help with the guys outside?”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Nick said as Kram helped him put his coat on.

Kram opened the door. They stood awkwardly by the doorstep, the chill from the snowy night creeping in.

“Well,” Kram finally said. “Thanks for coming over, Nick.”

“Merry Christmas, brother,” Nick said.