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Rated: GC · Poetry · Dark · #2023687
A dark tale of Christmas ...
Twas the Fright Before Christmas

“Twas the fright before Christmas -
somewhere in the house …
something was stirring
and it wasn't a mouse!”

“Oh Daddy, that’s not
how the real story goes.
It was night and real quiet
as everyone knows!”

I smiled down at my daughter
who was perched on my lap.
“This is the true story –
not holiday crap.”

“While it’s true old St. Nick
rewards those who are good,
there’s no coal for the bad kids –
that’s misunderstood.

There’s a special helper,
Krampus is his name,
and the worst of the worst
are his prize to claim.

He carries them off
to a dark, smelly cave
and gnaws on the bones
of kids who misbehave!

He uses their entrails
like garland, you see;
their fingers and toes
decorate his small tree.

Now it’s off to bed –
no more stories tonight.
Just remember the warning
and, oh yeah, sleep tight!”

My wife soon came out
and gave me “that look.”
“What did you tell her?”
I held up the book.

“She under the covers
and shaking with fear!
She said to be quiet so
that she could hear.”

I stuck out my tongue
and gave her a Bronx cheer.
“She’s prob'ly just listening
for Santa’s reindeer.”

She wasn't convinced
but said nary a peep –
“I hope that you’re right
and that she goes to sleep.”

Now perhaps what I did
could be thought of as sin …
but this is one Christmas morn
that I’ll get to sleep in.


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An entry for the December round of "Invalid Item
Line Count: 52
Prompt: Image 2
Form: abcb end rhyme based on the original A Visit from St. Nicholas   by Clement Moore
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