We're together in Klaus's barn: they've smeared me with tar, I've put on the heavy fur vest, I'm ringing the cowbells on my back.

Satisfied by the noise, I laugh out loud, my head spinning. The others have faces as black as mine, and we take long swigs from the bottle of grappa.

Pats on the back, obscene gestures, bad words in German, the kind we would never say on normal days.

Klaus asks for silence. Even though I've known him since he was born, when he climbs onto the table and speaks loudly, his eyes scare me. He's not himself anymore. He's about to become different, evil.

"We've gathered here on the evening of December 5th many times, guys. Until last year, we scared the children with birch sticks. This year is different. We have to be pure terror, show them! Let the Krampuslauf begin!" His voice rose in intensity, ending in a scream.

He takes another long drink, and they pass him the mask. Now he's gone; in its place has appeared a long-horned monster. The hideous face with its open mouth seems to have been forged in the flames of hell.

We take turns climbing up to the table, drinking, and transforming.

When it's my turn, the mask is heavy and smells of goat. I bump my horns against those of a companion, two competing steinbocks.

Everyone grabs a whip. We run outside, through cow dung and mud.

People watch us with a mixture of fear and amusement as we run through the streets of the village. Some of our younger friends, dressed up like us, simply scream, laugh, and chase the children.

But we don't. We know where to go.

They're at Marion's house, near the church. As always, on the night of December 5th, they're there, watching us pass by from the window. Three of them are on the terrace, uttering exclamations filled with false fear.

We don't even give them a second glance. Robert grabs the large key his father had crafted and opens the door with a loud bang.

We run up the stairs, mad with euphoria.

We find them hugging each other in the centre of the room, sixteen-year-olds girls, frightened but with mischievous looks, as if they've understood. They're wearing the traditional dress of the Valley, their breasts squeezed by the tight- waisted bodices. Sonia is in the middle of the others, her black hair, bright green eyes. She looks genuinely scared, and I'm excited. My erection feels like it's about to explode.

We circle around them, whip the floor near their feet, terrorize them with our infernal screams. Then I can't take it anymore.

I'm the first to grab Sonia's arm and pull her. When she resists, I hit her with the whip, then I lift her onto my shoulder and run outside.

I'm not the only one. The others are coming too, they shout ferociously behind me.

We ran uphill for a long time. I pull her, impatient, feeling no fatigue, only the urge to rip off her clothes, make her mine.

The mountain hut is isolated, far from the village. To save time, we had prepared lanterns before dressing up.

I slow down and let them in. I wait for them to close the door, then I push her unceremoniously into a clump of trees. In the dim moonlight, I throw her to the ground, towering over her, ringing the cowbells.

“Who are you?” he asks me, out of breath.

“Krampus. We are all Krampus. Take off your clothes.” I crack the whip, hard, just once.

“Why did you bring me out here?” I understand that being with the others would have reassured her.

I take her wrist and squeeze tightly.

"Because I want to see you. Undress, I said!"

Tears roll down her cheeks. She kneels and undoes her bodice. When her breasts appear, the euphoria leaves me, my breath catches.

Since the first time I saw her enter the classroom, three years ago, she hasn't changed much: she was an insecure little girl, arrived from Verona among us mountaineers.

During the endless lessons at school, I adored her from afar, almost without speaking to her. I've dreamed of her so many times that I'm only sure of one thing, now that I'm alone with her: I can't hurt her, but I desire her more than anything.

As I approach, she covers her breast with her arms.

I stop being abrupt, take her chin with my gloved hand, lift the mask just enough.

I kiss her.

At first I have to hold her back, she resists, she wants to run away. But then I feel her following me, she responds. She likes it.

I don't know how much time passes, minutes, hours, maybe the whole night. We seek each other out, touching, her scent mingling with the beastly smell of my mask.

And then from the mountain hut come screams and high laughter. My friends are running toward the village. They're calling me.

I have to pull away, reluctantly. The mask returns to its place. Our hands touch in a long, final embrace.

I'm running away. From tomorrow everything will be normal and the Krampus who gave me his courage will go back to sleep until next year.

Maybe I'll get to kiss her again.

Then I'm sure she will recognize me, and we can love each other.