Here is a holiday horror story of mine that was posted to an online site that has apparently gone dark, so I'm taking the opportunity to repost it here:
After a decade of living in
Australia, Olav Johannsson and his family moved back to Iceland. To be sure,
for Olav, the move was more “To” Iceland than “Back To” as, even though Olav
had been born on the island, shortly after his birth, his father’s company
promoted him and moved him to an office in Australia. Now, a decade later, Jon
took another promotion, which moved him back to the land of his own birth. Now
while Jon and his wife Helga were happy to return home, Olav was — as could be
expected — far less than thrilled. Having, quite literally, grown up in the mid-25s-to-high-30s-Celsius
Down Under, to now facing temps from 3 to 12 degrees Celsius was akin to a
prison sentence for the young lad. Needless to say, this was an overriding
reason that he was such a sullen child upon relocation.
Unfortunately, this attitude
proved a tad difficult for him to make friends, especially at the start of the
new school year. Still, given the pleasant outgoing nature of Islandic children
after a month of him interacting with the locals in his school, he did manage
to become friendly with a few of them. Two classmates with whom he became
especially close were a pair of twin girls his own age named Gudrun and
Kristin.
The girls both had very outgoing
and upbeat personalities, making it almost impossible for Olav, even at his
most sour moments, to stay grouchy. Soon enough, the three became nearly
inseparable. So, even when Olav would gripe about the weather, temperature, or lack
of a sandy beach, the girls would look past his mood, and find ways to cheer
him up. While his association with the girls did much to lighten his mood,
there was always a layer of irritability underlying his personality over having
been forced to move from the warmer climes of Australia to the fridged forever
of Iceland.
As the end of the calendar year
approached, and the temperatures began to drop even further, Olav became more
and more sullen, even though Gudrun and Kristin did their level best to keep
his spirits up. One Friday, which was also the first of December. As they were
departing from their final class of the day, Olav inquired if they wanted to
hang out and do something fun so as to cheer himself up. Only the girls declined,
citing a chore they had to do at home. Disappointed, Olav headed home resigned
to wallowing in his own misery.
Unfortunately, as the weekend and
following week wore on, the girls seemed to have less and less time to spend
with him. Finally, the following Friday, Olav, determined to get to the bottom
of the situation, followed them home, intending to confront them about it. Only
when he arrived, it was their mother that met him at the door.
“Hello, Mrs. Sigurdsson, are
Gudrun and Kristin at home?”
“Oh, Hello, Olav. Yes, they are
home, but they are quite busy just now.”
“Yes, they said something about
chores at school. But I have a question about some schoolwork. I promise not to
take up too much of their time.”
Sighing, Mrs.
Sigurdsson responded, as she let Olav in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to
distract them or take up too much of their time.”
“Thank you, muchly, ma’am” Olav
responded as he entered and headed towards the girl’s rooms. As he ascended the
stairs to their bedrooms, he heard noises coming from a room just off the
common hall. Upon entering the room, which appeared to be some sort of sewing
room, he saw both girls dutifully working on measuring, cutting, and stitching
clothing.
Olav cleared his throat, causing
the girls to both stop, and look in his direction. “Ah, hey Gudrun, Kristin.
What’s going on?”
“Olav, ah, hello. Mother let you
in?” Kristin asked.
“Yes, I told her I had a question
about schoolwork, but truthfully, I was really wondering why you’ve both been
avoiding me all week. I thought we were friends.”
“Oh, we most certainly are friends,
Olav.” Gudrun responded, “But we really have to get this done before the 25th.”
“Get what done?” Olav asked? “What
are you doing?”
“Were making our Christmas
clothes.” Kirstin replied.
“We need to get them done before
the holiday or the Yule Cat will get us.” Gudrun chimed in.
“The…yule…cat?” Olav repeated. “Wh-whatever
are you talking about?”
The girls looked at each other,
then at Olav. “The Yule Cat.” They said in unison.
“What the heck is a Yule Cat, and
what does that have to do with making clothes?”
“Children who don’t have new
clothes by Christmas will get eaten by the Yule Cat.” Kristin exclaimed.
“That’s right, you grew up in
Australia, so you probably didn’t have any Yule Cats down there.” Gudrun
continued. “You should hurry home and ask your parents. They grew up here, so
I’m surprised they haven’t told you.”
With that, the girls hurried him
out and returned to their sewing. Confused. Olav left the Sigurdsson’s and
headed home. Upon entering his house, he found his mother in the kitchen, baking
bread. “Mom, what’s the Yule Cat?” he asked as he sat at the kitchen table.
“What’s that, dear?” his mother
responded as she paused in her breadmaking.
“The Yule Cat. I was over the
Sigurdssons talking to the girls to find out why they’ve been ducking me for a
week, they were sewing Christmas clothes and told me this goofy story about a
Yule Cat that was going to eat them if they didn’t finish making the clothes
before Christmas.”
Picking up a towel to wipe her
hands, Mrs. Johannsson sighed as she sat down. “Olav, The Yule Cat is an old
superstition here in Iceland. The story goes that if children don’t receive new
clothes by Christmas, this giant cat will come to their house to eat them. Honestly,
it is really a tale told by parents to get their children to sew new clothes
for themselves so that they have something new to wear for the holidays.”
“Then, why am I not making new
clothes?”
“Well, first of all, as I said, it
is just an old myth that has been around since the 1600s, and second, when we
moved here from Australia, we bought you a tonne of new clothing. Not to
mention, that with this recent raise of his, your father makes a good deal of
money, so it isn’t necessary for you to waste your time learning how to sew
just so that you have something to wear.”
“But aren’t you afraid that I’m
going to get eaten?
Mrs. Johannsson laughed. “No,
sweetie, like I’ve said it’s just a myth. It isn’t real.”
“What’s not real?” Came Mr.
Johannsson’s voice from the front hallway as he arrived home from work.
“The Yule Cat.” Replied Olav. “But
if it isn’t real, then why are Gudrun and Kristin making clothes, so they don’t
get eaten?”
Pulling up a chair to the table,
Mr. Johannsson sat down. “Well, as I’m sure your mother already told you, it’s
an old Icelandic Christmas myth. Every country has them. The Yule Cat is known
as Jólakötturinn and is a huge and vicious cat that is often described as
lurking about the snowy countryside here in Iceland during the Christmas season.
It is said that he will eat people who have not received any new clothes to
wear before Christmas Eve. He’s said to be the house pet of a witch named Grýla,
her husband, Leppalúði and their sons, the vicious and mischievous Yule Lads.
“Now the Yule Lads — sometimes referred
to as Yuletide-lads or even Yulemen — are a group of 13 mischievous pranksters
who are said to steal from or otherwise harass the population of local villages.
Each of them has very descriptive names that generally convey their favourite
way of causing mischief. The boys themselves arrive one by one over the final
13 nights leading up to Christmas and either leave small gifts in shoes that
children place on windowsills, or a rotten potato in the shoe instead, if the child
has been disobedient.”
“And you’re just telling me all of
this now?” Olav exclaimed, looking from one parent to another.
“Again, we didn’t ever tell you
because A) it is just an ancient myth, and B) because we were living in
Australia, over 15,000 kilometers away from Iceland, and frankly I sincerely
doubt that anyone in Australia had ever heard of the Yule Cat.” His father
stated. “Now, while your mother and I grew up with these silly myths, we saw no
reason to burden you with them, because they’re simply not real.”
“Not to mention,” Mrs. Johannsson
interjected. “Being so far away, for so long, it never occurred to us that
anyone here still believed in there being a giant cat that would eat you if you
didn’t have new clothes by Christmas. So really while you don’t need to worry
about it, you shouldn’t tease the girls — or any of your friends who might
still believe — about it just being as mythical as Santa or Thor.”
Olav mulled all this information
over for a moment, then smiled, and said, “Okay, I get it. It’s like all the really
cool stories that the Aboriginals tell. Everyone is entitled to their own
belief system.”
Clapping his hand on his son’s
back, Mr. Johannsson smiled and exclaimed, “That’s my boy.” Then, looking at
his wife inquired, “Now, what’s for dinner?”
Muchly calmed down and mostly
mollified by his parents’ explanation, Olav promised that he wouldn’t say
anything to the girls (or anyone else at school) about what he had been told. Taking
his promise, a step farther, he would check in with the girls every couple of
days on their progress with their new Christmas clothes. Finally, on Christmas
Eve, when the whole district was gathered together for a community celebration,
the girls showed up with their new clothes.
“Olav, where are your new
clothes?” Kristin exclaimed.
“Oh, they’re home,” Olav fibbed,
still not wanting to disillusion the girls.
“Aren’t you worried about the Yule
Cat?” Gudrun gasped.
“Not really, I’m saving them for
Christmas Day.”
Both girls seemed relieved by his
admission, and the three of them then went on to enjoy the Holiday pageant. As
it wound down, the girls headed home, and Olav headed back to his house. While
his parents had gone straight back to their house, Olav opted to take a longer
route, as he wanted to see all of the festive lights strung around their
village. Everything seemed so much more joyous than their township in
Australia. In spite of the bitter cold, the snow, and the lack of beaches, Olav
was actually beginning to feel good.
As he was nearing his home, he
felt as if he was being followed. A couple of times he caught sight of a
shadow, just at the edge of his peripheral vision. As he continued on his way,
he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone or something was tailing him. At
first, he thought that it might really be The Yule Cat, but the rational part
of his brain took over and he soon convinced himself that it was just Gudrun
and Kirstin, pranking him.
As he finally came to the walkway of
his front door, he could most assuredly feel a presence behind him. Stopping at
the front gate, he heard a low-pitched growl, so he decided to put an end to
this charade and call the girls out. Spinning around quickly, he shouted, “Okay
girls, I know it’s you…oh crap.”
The following morning, the
Johannssons couldn’t find Olav in his room. Calling over to the Sigurdssons
they learned that he wasn’t there either. More calls around the village
revealed that not only was Olav missing, but so were as many as 16 children.
None of whom had made new Christmas clothes.
#
# #
Learn
more about the Yule Cat here.
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