Channy Dreadful's Dreaful Reviews

12 Days of Creepmas: A Christmas Warning

Saturday, 17 December 2016 · By: Bloody Brodie

"On the fourth day of Creepmas, Krampus gave to me:
A terrifying poem by Bloody Brodie!"

- Mr. Universe

(Artwork by James Casper)




December 24th, it was,
and the moon was full;
glimmering, it’s light reflected from snow.
The light was bright, giving quite a glow.
There we sat, waiting to hear
the sleigh that reindeers pull.


The winds of December were blocked by my shield,
blowing on top and around my house and it’s field.
Not a neighbour in sight,
not a soul to its yield.
The cheap wallpaper
around the fire had peeled.


And such, my family and I huddled around,
waiting for Fat Man Nick to appear without a sound.
As a child, I’d look and look (but yet, never found)
that man in red, with his sack gaining a pound
from each gift made by the elves,
From every cookie, every glass found on the shelves
filled to it’s brim with nog, which was made by ourselves.


‘To bed,’ my mother had said
‘or Saint Nick won’t come!
He won't think twice
and skip our house instead.’
Quickly, I had ran!
Fast I had fled
to snuggle in deep
in my cozy warm bed.


Brushing my teeth,
I'd peered through Jack Frost’s blood
that covered the windows
in a frantic flood.
Ice had blanketed what I saw,
and what that was
was dark as mud.


The moon's deep beams
were tracing it's image.
A tall, dark silhouette
eating; it finished.
It was ready to fight,
ready to pillage.
In seconds,
gnawing at my window,
fear had caged me --
for ten miles from here,
there sleeps the nearest village.


I screamed, I ran,
I locked the door.
I asked ‘Where’s Father?
‘He left to the store.
We need a few things
for breakfast in the morn
and the snow’s getting bad.
It’s looking to storm.’


Just then, screams were made!
There they still linger,
there they had stayed.
With his dead, twitching fingers.
the creature slashed up my father;
his skin, it had flayed.
Violence had shook this night,
and death it had made.


His jugular gone,
Father’s blood painted the floor;
covering the snow,
his blood started to pour.
That is when we heard
whispers sneaking through our door,
saying: ‘The liar is gone!
Now I am onto the whore!’


Tears turned to ice
while my mother screamed,
‘Quick, to your room!’
while fur and shadows
seep through the seams.
Darkness turns solid,
becomes a tangible mess.
I feel now we just wait
‘til the monster leaves.


Waiting in my room
for this horror to end,
a crash came from the chimney!
‘Ho, ho, ho!’ a booming voice had sent.
Santa had come!
Saint Nick is here
to use some Christmas magic
to make chills turn to cheers!


But, to our surprise,
blood was shed --
but it wasn’t the beast’s…
it was Nick’s, instead.
Up the stairs, we heard it come;
we then hid under the bed
hoping that to begging of mercy
we wouldn't succumb.


We watched it’s feet
after it crashed down the door.
That’s when it collapsed
in a shadowy puddle to the floor.
It flowed towards us;
the puddle, it rolled.
The shadow had found us
and sent fear to our core.


Out from the puddle
came a thick black thorn,
and following that one
five others were born.
Wrapping and clawing,
drawing some blood
from my mother's poor ankle,
dragging her down.


Where she went,
and where she did go?
Down in the puddle is where.
The rest, I do not know.


The puddle, it idled.
There it had sat
for a total two minutes,
then out blood it spat.
Showering down
warm rain in December --
painting the walls
and carving memories
I’m now forced to remember.


Nature asleep,
buried deep in the ground,
there Santa is now said to be found
along with my parents,
killed by a beast like a hound.
Eyes like rubies,
claws so sharp.
The scratches were deep…
so deep that bone was found.


It howled through the night.
It's cry pierced the cold.
My parents,
they tried to fight,
but Santa?
His soul had been sold.


So fair warning
I share with you all:
What comes down the chimney
standing eight-feet tall...
it won’t be Santa, for Santa is gone,
but it is the creature straight from Hell.

It is Satan's pawn.

Related Tags

#bloody brodie #brodie #12 days of creepmas #christmas #creepmas #12 days #bloody #warning #christmas warning #a christmas warning #santa #santa claus #saint nick #creature #poem 



4 + 1 =