‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the home
All the shadows were stirring, all ready to roam;
Offerings were hung by the chimney with care,
bits of bone, and organs, and scalps with some hair.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
when a sharp-bladed axe went clean through their heads;
And mamma all dead now, and I in my mask,
had just now completed my life’s greatest task.
When down in the basement came a blasphemous sound,
I sprang from the room as the noise shook the ground.
Away to the cellar I flew like a flash,
tore open the door and heard something splash.
The ritual had called for killing and chants,
to bring forth the Old Ones, and the powers they grant.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a portal, a gate, all roiling and queer.
Now came a limb, writhing, tentacular,
I gazed in excitement, ‘twas something spectacular.
More rapid than eagles more tendrils shot out,
they shrieked and they roared, and I started to shout;
“Yog-Sothoth, the Gate, and also the Key!
On, Dagon, on, Hastur, on, Yig and Gla’aki!
Cthulhu, Great Dreamer, now, Ithaqua, Wind-Walker!
On, Nyarlathotep, and Cthylla, the Daughter!”
And then, with a singularly thunderous boom,
revealed before me, were the bringers of doom.
Indescribable was the place I saw through that portal,
My mind shattered to pieces, for I was but mortal.
And the beings I witnessed, the Masters I’d called,
their millions of eyes, they held me enthralled;
Then a whisper, a word, crept into my brain,
a worm boring deep, causing me pain.
The eyes — how they twinkled! the shrieking how scary!
Their tongues were like serpents, and one was quite hairy!
Their wide yawning mouths seemed to grow and to grow,
And the drool of their chins was as white as the snow.
The most fetid of breath passed right through their teeth,
and the miasma encircled my head like a wreath;
They were hungry for minds to put in their bellies,
That shook, when they screamed like bowlfuls of jelly.
They spoke many a word, all unutterably insidious,
filling me with knowledge, both eldritch and hideous.
And laying a tendril aside of my nose,
the Dreamer, he whispered, and my euphoria rose;
“The time’s now to slay, to tear bone from the gristle,
Then away they all flew out of that gate of abyssal.”
And I heard them exclaim, as they flew out of sight,
“OUR SLUMBER IS OVER, THIS IS YOUR LAST NIGHT!”
Read more Lovecraftian yuletide tales in Cthulhu Christmas Special available for Amazon Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, and Paperback