AVRUMEL KNOCKED ON THE door while bundled up in his heavy winter coat, his long beard covered in a blanket of frost from the bitter snow outside, and his right hand hovering above his head, trying to keep his hat from blowing off.

It was going to be another awful night in the midst of Ukrainian winter. However, he was thankful that he’d be celebrating it in a warm house.

He had arrived at the house of his friend, Yishayahu, for the first night of Chanukah. However, the sun was on the verge of setting, and the door was still unanswered. He rapped his fist on it louder, calling out, “Yishay, open the damn door!”

The wind howled in his ears as he tried to stay warm from the bitter cold. His patience was wearing thinner than the socks in his shoes. He’d promised to spend the first night of Chanukah with Yishayahu after the passing of his friend’s son in the Great War a few weeks earlier.

Now, it seemed as though the old man had forgotten about his visit.

The house had fallen into poor care over the last few years, and the mezuzah on the doorframe was severely damaged and held together by the seams of its casing. Avrumel shivered, silently reminding himself to get his friend a new mezuzah.

Banging his fist on the door, he growled, “Yishayahu, open up, it’s farkakta cold out here!”

Finally, the door flew open as Avrumel got a look within the interior of the small house. The inside was dark with only a few candles flickering on the table. However, it wasn’t the lack of lighting that caught his attention, but the bewildered look on the old man’s face in front of him.

Yishayahu was dressed in a long winter coat, his silver beard hung down to his chest, and his bald head was visibly drenched in sweat. Shaking his head, Avrumel walked in from the cold snow and slammed the door. “It took you long enough; I thought I was going to freeze out there.”

“Avi,” Yishayahu interrupted him. “Be on your guard, I feel its presence.”

Turning to look at his old friend, Avrumel cocked his eyebrow. “What?”

“The dybbuk.” Yishayahu shivered in fear. “Come, I’ll show you.”

“Dybbuk?” Avrumel hid a tone of fear as he stepped into the back bedroom of the house. The building was old and dilapidated, it had been built by Yishayahu’s mishpoche years earlier, but had since fallen into disrepair as time went by. Now, with his son gone, there was no chance that it was going to meet a cheerful ending.

Once they made their way into the back room, Avrumel looked around the dark bedroom and sniffed the air. It was old and musty, but nothing unusual for an old house such as the one they stood in. Avrumel turned to look at Yishayahu standing at the doorway. “I don’t get it?”

“You don’t feel the cold in the air?”

“I do, but only because I’ve been in the snow for the last two hours.” Avrumel huffed in annoyance. “It’s almost sundown, have you prepared your menorah or meal?”

Yishayahu simply stood staring into the dark room as Avrumel looked at him. The old man was showing his age, hell, they both were getting up in years. Still, Avrumel was more in-tune with his mind than Yishayahu appeared to be.

Walking out of the bedroom, Avrumel approached the old cabinet and pulled out the silver candelabra before setting it on the table. He fished out the candles from within the cabinet as he turned to call back down the hall. “Yishayahu, come on, it’s nearly time!”

No answer.

Avrumel rolled his eyes as he set up the candles in each holder and made his way to the fireplace, where a warm fire crackled. Reaching down, he lit a small stick kept next to it and lit up the tip as he turned to approach the menorah. He ensured the tip of the stick remained smoldering as he called back again. “Yishay, are you coming out or what? Have you taken ill?”

The back bedroom remained silent as Avrumel focused on lighting the first candle, watching carefully as the wick lit through the orange flame, slowly reciting the blessing as he did. “Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu, melekh ha'olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner Hanukkah.”

The candle lit without issue, and Avrumel held the stick near the table, looking down at the burning flame dancing in the silence of the house. He knew that Yishayahu wouldn’t miss the candle-lighting for anything, especially since the passing of his son. He turned to look down the dark hall. “Yishay? Vos machstu?”

Silence continued to pervade the house, the darkness overwhelming from down the hall into the bedrooms. Looking back to the burning light of the Chanukah candle, Avrumel turned to focus on the back of the house, walking with ease and steadying his pace.

He crept down the hall, issuing another question, “Yishay? Hello?”

The bedroom door slammed shut and sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed as he called out again, “Yishay, I’m going home if you do not answer me!”

Silence continued to fill the air.

The cold, musty smell of dank wood and mold growing in the floor burnt his nostrils.

Running his hand through his beard, Avrumel sighed before turning to walk back into the dining room. Yishayahu was either trying to spook him or had gone to sleep early. Whatever the case, it was no use trying to stay for the night. He’d return to his own home and family, perhaps come back to visit on a brighter day.

He walked fewer than three steps before he felt a jolt from behind send him falling to the floor.

Smashing into the old wooden floor, Avrumel turned quickly to look at what had been thrown into him. His face twisted in terror as he saw Yishayahu lunging from the darkness, his eyes glowing in scarlet red; his scraggly silver beard covered in patches of blood that ran freely from his mouth, his hands raised to grasp at him, the fingers bent as the fingernails angled down.

Avrumel screamed in terror as he called out. “Yishay! Stop!”

“Yishay is no longer among us.” The old man’s voice changed into a guttural tone from the throat. “Neither will you!”

The old man’s angry and ghastly body lunged down into Avrumel, hands ripping at his neck as fingers tangled to tear his beard. Screaming out in pain and shock, Avrumel gripped the smoldering stick and brought it up, slapping it into the side of the man’s head as hard as he could.

The impact of the long stick worked to get the monster off as Avrumel scrambled to his feet in an attempt to rush back into the dining room. He had to get away, he knew one thing for sure, whatever was after him wasn’t Yishayahu.

Turning to face the man, he watched as Yishay’s walking body hunched over with hands held out and mouth open to allow blood to run from his lips. Avrumel looked around the room as he held the stick out towards the man. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I want to hurt you.” Yishay laughed in an angry growl. “You shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“It’s Chanukah, Yishay, don’t you remember Chanukah?”

“Yishay. Is. Not. Here.”

“Then who am I speaking to?”

“Who I am is nothing. I am the unmentionable, indescribable, and insatiable.”

Avrumel had often heard of dybbukim, but he’d never seen nor interacted with one. He almost didn’t believe in them, but he tried to stay as wary as possible about the creations in the world by HaShem.

Looking around, he tried to remember how to expel the dybbuk, but alas he was out of options. No minyan, no shofar, and increasingly no hope. He swallowed as he looked at the body of his old friend.

“What is it that you want?”

“Death.” Yishay’s lips moved as the voice spoke through him like a macabre puppet. “I want death, but since I have had it already, I want to cause it.”

The man started moving towards Avrumel with his clawed fingers ready to rip out his throat. Avrumel shook his head as he swung the stick at the older man. “Please, Yishay, I don’t want to harm you, but I will if you don’t stop!”

“You can do no more to your Yishay than he had done to himself,” the creature spoke. “This fool was in disbelief of all things. His house was unprotected. His spirit was crushed. His body ripe for the taking. When I embraced him, he was already hollow as a shell. Now, I will take care of his shell as he hosts my spirit.

“What of Yishay’s spirit?”

“Gone into the darkness like a doused flame.”

Before Avrumel could respond, the older man’s visage attacked him by grabbing onto his coat and swinging him around, attempting to tear into his throat. Avrumel struggled as Yishay’s face contorted before him, mouth wide and eyes burning into his own. Throwing a punch, Avrumel sent Yishay’s body stumbling backwards, the nose broken enough to draw blood.

Yishay’s body released a wicked laugh as it rushed towards Avrumel again. Acting fast, Avrumel raised the stick with the smoldering tip and drove it into Yishay’s left eye, puncturing through. The older man’s hands reached up to grasp the stick as Avrumel fell back against the table, watching in shock.

With a sickening tug, the older man pulled the stick from his eye socket, ripping out the eyeball that was skewered onto the stick.

Avrumel quickly turned to rush towards the door, his hands gripping the handle, his heart racing to the point that he couldn’t think straight.

He needed to get out. He needed to flee. He needed to consult a maggid or a rabbi to help him.

The village wasn’t far away, if he could just get out, he’d be safe in the storm. Facing snow flurries would be better than facing a possessed man.

Pulling the door open, Avrumel felt something strike him on the head and send him plummeting to the ground with his face over the threshold. His skull ached as he tried to regain the strength to leave the house and get help.

He needed to help his friend.

The figure of Yishay’s body held the bloodied menorah in hand as he dropped to rest atop of Avrumel and brought the heavy candelabra back down on the fallen man’s head, beating in his cranium. Yishay released a hideous cackle as he beat Avrumel with the menorah, again and again, his lust for blood unquenched as he continued in his assault.

Avrumel lay still on the floor, blood pouring freely from his head into the floor as Yishai dropped the ruined menorah next to the body. Standing up, the older man secured his coat before stepping over the body of Avrumel and entering the dark night, unburdened by the blistering cold that rained down from the sky above.

Turning from the house, he started through the thick snow towards the village. The flurries and frost of the bitter storm fell like a plague upon the land around him. It had been a fun night so far, but it would only get better with each step he took.

There were more families celebrating the first night of Chanukah, a thought that made him smile as he considered how he would quench his blood lust on one family after another.

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