Editorials
How Did YOU Interpret the Ending of ‘Krampus’?
Today, December 5, is Krampusnacht (aka Krampus Night), the night the Christmas demon known as Krampus roams the streets, ahead of the Feast of Saint Nicholas.
So what better day to revisit Krampus, Trick ‘r Treat director Michael Dougherty’s 2015 film that is, and likely will forever be, the be-all, end-all Krampus movie!
One of the most talked about aspects of Dougherty’s Krampus is of course the ending, which suggests that pretty much everything we saw throughout the movie did not really happen. After Krampus kills his whole family and tosses him into the fiery depths of what is presumably Hell, Max (whose loss of faith in the Christmas spirit invited Krampus into his home in the first place) wakes up in his own bed on Christmas morning. Downstairs, he finds his family opening up presents by the tree – happy and still very much alive.
A normal, happy family Christmas is exactly what Max had wanted most, and the film seems like it’s going to end on that uplifting note; all the bad stuff was nothing more than a nightmare. But then Dougherty hits us with another twist. The camera pulls back to reveal that Max and his family are in some sort of hellish snow globe, which Krampus sets down in his underworld lair. They’ve seemingly become part of his collection, suggesting that the film’s events weren’t a dream at all.
The assumption one might derive from the film’s final coda is that Max and his family are literally trapped in Hell for the rest of eternity, doomed to live out that particular Christmas morning on an endless loop; a sort of cruel reminder of what they *could’ve* had when they were alive… if only they appreciated what they had.
But is that what Michael Dougherty really intended to convey? Did he give us a happy ending and then immediately rip it away in favor of a super depressing one? It’s certainly a valid interpretation of the film, though my personal take-away from the ending, as I originally relayed on Halloween Love back in 2015, was that Dougherty was imparting genuine holiday cheer – and a message we could all stand to learn.
The way I viewed Krampus, the events of the film weren’t an extended nightmare sequence but rather a hellish vision that Krampus forced Max to see – think A Christmas Carol, which was obviously a huge influence on Dougherty. Since Max learned the lesson Krampus wanted him to learn, offering himself up to the Christmas demon in the end, that vision, in so many words, did not end up coming true. It would have, of course, if Max didn’t learn his holiday lesson – we know this because Max’s grandmother failed to reverse Krampus’ evil deeds when she was a child, resulting in the death of her parents.
It was immediately after Max lost his inner Christmas spirit that Krampus and his twisted pals arrived, and it was precisely because Max lost sight of the true meaning of the holiday that they came knocking. Max wished that his family would go away, and by taking him on a nightmarish journey, Krampus showed Max that what he thought he wanted wasn’t what he wanted at all. Max realized that, and so Krampus gave him the ultimate gift.
He gave Max his family back.
But how is it a happy ending if they’re all trapped in a snow globe? Well, they’re really not. The way I saw it, that was just Dougherty’s way of showing that those snow globes are Krampus’ portals to the real world. He has one for every family, and when they’re not respecting the spirit of the season, he strikes. He’s keeping tabs on every single family in the world, quite literally like an evil Santa Claus. He sees them when they’re sleeping. He knows when they’re awake. And he damn sure knows when they’ve been bad or good.
As for the bell that Max opens up on that happy Christmas morning, I viewed that as Krampus reminding Max that he’s watching, and letting him know that though none of those awful things actually happened to his family, it was all something more than a mere nightmare – even his family members seem to recognize the bell in some way, suggesting that they too experienced the same nightmare. Should Max lose sight of the Christmas spirit again, Krampus will return, as the family is forever under his watchful eye. The bell is merely a symbol – a reminder to never lose that Christmas spirit.
Though he may not be as cute or cuddly, it seems clear to me that Michael Dougherty views Krampus in much the same way he does Trick ‘r Treat‘s Sam; they’re both living, breathing cautionary tales for their respective holidays, existing for the primary purpose of teaching people to respect, appreciate, and uphold holiday traditions and values.
If you don’t, well, you know what’s going to happen to you…
There’s a lot of reading left to do in 2026, between the glut of summer releases and the approach of fall, when horror titles get a special push from publishers, but this has already been an incredible year for horror literature.
Some of the biggest names in the genre have turned in outstanding work, rising stars have made their mark, and we’re only halfway through the year.
To celebrate the midway point of 2026, with plenty of horror books still to come, we’re taking a look back at the best horror books we’ve read this year so far, listed alphabetically by author.
If you missed any of these books earlier in the year, consider this your reminder to catch up.
Japanese Gothic by Kylie Lee Baker
A student running from a crime he may or may not have committed escapes to his father’s country home in Japan, only to find himself haunted by strange apparitions, while in the past, a young samurai tries to find salvation for her family and finds a door to the future instead. Kylie Lee Baker’s Japanese Gothic begins with this dialogue between past and present, and then blossoms into so much more, a cross-time ghost story about old wounds and what it really takes to finally heal them. I got so happily lost in this one that I would have read at least 200 more pages.
Persona by Aoife Josie Clements
In this tale of shut-ins, sex workers, artists, and the horrors they both summon and recoil from, Aoife Josie Clements weaves something that feels less like a story to be experienced and more like a psychic wound to be endured, and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. Evocative in its prose and nightmarish in its imagery, Persona is a story of the masks we wear, and the understanding that not all of our masks are particularly pretty or even easy to breathe through. It’s a dense, literary, unnervingly vicious book, and while it’s already attracted an audience, it deserves a much bigger one.
Dead First by Johnny Compton
Johnny Compton’s latest novel opens with a throwing down of the gauntlet, a sequence that made me instantly think “How on Earth is he going to top this?” It’s a story that begins with a billionaire hiring a private investigator to determine why, despite trying in many brutal ways, he cannot die. That premise, and the scene which sets it all off, is so alluring and delightfully gruesome that you almost can’t believe it’s the way a book begins, and then Compton just keeps going, delivering a supernatural mystery that I could not put down.
Make Me Better by Sarah Gailey
A woman grieving for the life she wanted visits a mysterious island renowned for the healing salt its residents harvest and sell, seeking renewal and relief. What she finds instead is a strange cult with a twisted history with surprising resonance in her own life, and a people who are more than willing to grant the relief she wants, for a price. Laced with beautiful prose and moments of profound realization alongside folk and even cosmic horror, this is vintage Sarah Gailey.
Partially Devoured by Daniel Kraus
If you love horror film history and analysis, Partially Devoured is an essential. Written by Pulitzer Prize-winner Daniel Kraus, the book is a deep dive into his favorite movie of all time, George A. Romero‘s Night of the Living Dead, complete with exhaustive research into the making of the film and passages of deeply moving memoir woven in. If you’ve ever wanted to know what the eerie music that opens the film is called while also bursting into tears at how horror movies can save your life, this is a must-read.
Wretch by Eric LaRocca
Our reigning King of Extreme Horror, Eric LaRocca weaves books of uncommon beauty out of the most nightmarish parts of humanity, and Wretch is no exception. The story of a grieving man who longs for relief and searches for it amid a strange support group that might be a cult, Wretch is a brutal journey into the darkest part of us all, and explores what salvation we might find when we get to the rotten core of the world and peel back its layers. LaRocca’s on a tear of great work right now that few other genre writers can match.
Headlights by CJ Leede
A mystery, a serial killer horror show, a tribute to Stephen King‘s The Shining. All of these things describe CJ Leede’s Headlights, and yet they don’t begin to cover the full breadth of horror awaiting you in this novel. The story of a former FBI agent drawn back into the cold case that haunts him most, it’s a shocker brimming over with vivid moments that’ll live behind your eyes. CJ Leede has now published three novels, and they’re all bangers, so it’s time to get on board if you haven’t already.
It Came From Neverland by Cynthia Pelayo
Cynthia Pelayo has been one of our finest genre writers for years now, but It Came From Neverland is my favorite thing she’s written, and it’s not even close. A dark take on Peter Pan from the perspective of an adult Wendy Darling living in World War I-era London, Pelayo’s book works as both a satisfying horror narrative and a rich exploration of what it really means to never grow up. The horror never loses its potency, but it’s the search for the meaning behind the Peter Pan phenomenon in our own lives, and what we can do about it, that sticks with me most.
Filth Eaters by Ito Romo
Ito Romo’s Filth Eaters is a slim volume, one you can read in just a couple of hours if you’ve got the inclination, but it has the feel of a generation-spanning epic. The story of a breed of vampires born in Central America, the European vampires who encounter them, and the offspring they eventually produced, it spans centuries and packs loads of juicy lore into its pages while never losing its grip on character and narrative drive. I would read hundreds more pages of this world, but I’ll settle for this uncommonly grand-scale novella for now.
Dead But Dreaming of Electric Sheep by Paul Tremblay
A former pro gamer gets a job at a tech company to pilot a brain-dead human body across the country, and so Paul Tremblay’s sci-fi-horror juggernaut begins. Indebted to Philip K. Dick, the primal snarl of Harlan Ellison, and the quirky comedy of The Big Lebowski, and yet wholly original, this is a towering and ambitious novel by one of horror’s most respected voices. What starts as a high-concept tech thriller soon becomes a startling meditation on the value of stories, who gets to tell them, and what happens when we cede too much control to machines we don’t understand. It’s a stunner.
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