A Bedtime Story

by Thomas Vaughan Jones
(Liverpool UK)

Why has Daddy been so naughty?
Telling us those scary tales,
Full of witches, wolves and warlocks,
Moaning sighs and eerie wails.

Then he says it's time for bed,
Time that we went up the stairs.
Snuggled up in cosy blankets,
Don't forget to say your prayers.

I lie in my little bedroom,
Hearing every tiny sound.
Are there werewolves in my wardrobe?
Awful creatures all around?

I see through my bedroom window
Shadows from a hunter's moon.
I clutch tightly to my pillow,
Vampire bats are coming soon.

Rustle, rustle in the treetops,
Fluttering on my windowsill.
Small red eyes that peer intently
At me, lying quiet and still.

Pointed noses, bristled whiskers;
Canine teeth, so sharp and white.
Crimson tongues with feral flicker,
Mouths just longing for a bite.

Now a voice is crooning softly.
'Come to me my little lass'.
While I cringe in mortal terror,
Claws are scratching at the glass.

Lying here, alone and frightened,
So afraid that I can't scream.
I can't wait until the morning,
When I wake up from this dream.

Daddy dear, I'm only little.
Your tales fill my soul with dread.
Daddy dear, there are some stories
That are better left unsaid.

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