The Night Before Christmas in The Raycliff Estate
Twas the Night before Christmas at the Raycliff estate,
A chill filled the air in the evening now late.
A light could be seen in the top of the tower,
The silence was deafening and even the rats, they did cower.
The butler stands watch at the front manor door,
Lying in wait for a victim once more.
Nearby rest the maids “Ghastly” and “Gore”,
Their duties complete with no blood on the floor.
Inside the manor filled with cold and despair,
The stench of mildew and death saturate the air.
The lightning casts shadows on the living room wall,
Revealing a silhouette of Molly with hatchet, terrifyingly tall.
The Chef in the kitchen cries out in great pain,
He relives his freezing death over and over again.
With dismay and disgust he guards his domain,
From the slash of his cleaver he cannot refrain.
With needle in hand and ill fate to bestow,
Nurse Carla waits for the blood to once again flow.
Her mission is clear and her duties well known,
With her aid the number of souls in the manor has grown.
Eerie music can be heard from the Nursery and down the halls,
Where Mary Annette plays with her tea set and dolls.
Her shelves are lined with the heads of victims past,
With their faces, new masks for Mary will be cast.
Inside the Library screams and shouts do resound,
Barnabus, what’s left of him, can still be found.
Dr. Raycliff’s secrets, Barnabus guards to protect and preserve,
Trespassers one and all will get what they deserve.
The dungeon with the smell of the swamps at low tide,
Reeks of the stench of rotting human hide.
The creature within hides in shadows and bones,
While screeching in disgusting guttural tones.
In the Asylum room doors and Asylum halls,
Dwell the unworldly sound of Bane’s laughter and calls.
With personalities many and victims to match,
He runs free from his prison with now broken latch.
The Morgue sits in silence and still, deadly cold,
An occasional apparition appears to behold.
With sudden and deafening screaming surprise,
The Doctor’s Assistant inflicts great demise.
With the swing of a chain or a slamming morgue door,
Intruders do fall to the cold concrete floor.
Through the body bag freezer and down halls paved with brick,
A howling is heard that makes ones heart beat quick.
Bart has transformed once again to a beast,
And waits in the boiler room for guests on which he can feast.
The snarls and the growls serve as distant warning,
That enter the boiler room and you’ll not likely see morning.
In the Graveyard with crypts, headstones and graves,
Lizzie Conner keeps souls as now manor slaves.
Dare enter her graveyard and step on her plot,
Next will be you who will become naught.
From the Carriage House too, strange lights do appear,
Steam rises from the roof and odd sounds you can hear.
Professor Widget inside, madly works to revive,
The equipment Dr. Raycliff invented to keep fears alive.
Out on the property June dances with glee,
Her body did age but never did she.
Mind of a child, sinister and sweet,
Don’t get her cross of her temper you’ll meet.
As the clock stuck midnight and the creatures united in screams,
I woke from deep sleep to find it was only a dream.
As I made my way down the stairs with relief and a great sigh,
I had hoped that Santa’s visit was now here or nigh.
I made way to the living room to enjoy the tree,
Then suddenly Dr. Raycliff apprehended me!
As I was taken away and I gave up the fight,
I heard this one phrase being called in the night,
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good Fright!
