The child slept and mum and dad snored,
While Sparky cowered behind the living room door.
When down the chimney came old Nick Claws,
Crushing some coal under his paws
The Yule log was burning to keep him out
Fire against the monster of night’s doubt
But the flame is stifled, all light has gone
No protection is left against what is wrong.
Old Nick Claws stands in front of their stockings
The face of a wretch with a smile that is mocking
His cloak is all dirty and bloody and red
On his back is a sack filled with souls of the dead
Poor Sparky is whimpering and himself he has peed
Wishing the monster on the stairs would just leave
But he doesn’t, he climbs, one step at a time
In the witching hour of the carriage clock’s chime.
The family won’t stir, not even at all
Deep in the slumber, not aware of the pawl
Awaiting if they should fail to wake
Because old Nick Claws their souls he will take.
A talon so sharp grasps the door knob and turns
In the little one’s dream the Yule log flares and it burns
She senses the danger, she must try to wake
For if she does not her life he will take.
The child comes to with a blood curdling scream
Thank goodness it was all just a Christmas Eve dream.
Check out Daniel Soule‘s fiction below:
Little Man o’ War