The Trap for St. Nicholas

by Celtic Bard

Copyright© 2015 by J. M. F. Hildebrandt

Christmas Poem: A different take on the classic Christmas Poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas" that most of us know as "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" by Clement Clarke Moore. I took the general layout and a few lines from the original poem, sprinkled it with some epic fantasy, and came up with "The Trap for St. Nicholas."

Tags: Violence   Religion   Assassins   Christmas   Supernatural   Monsters   Fantasy   Magic  


Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land
There rose a mighty clamor, a cacophony most grand.
The trap had been laid for St. Nicholas with care
In hopes that the fat man would soon be there;
With children and parents asnug in their beds,
And dreams of presents alight in their heads.
The season had coarsened with greed and avarice
Allowing the minions of wickedness and malice
To rise with a vengeance to topple the time
Meant to give praise to a man most divine.
So as they all lay in their slumber so deep,
Disciples of vice lay about the setting of a trap
To slaughter the jolly elf and end all of the crap
The joy and the warmth and the giving they saw
And made them wretch behind clenched jaw.
So around a pious house they laid in wait,
For the sound of the season they loathed and hate.
And not long after midnight there arose such a noise
As the fat, jolly man came to see good little girls and boys
The full moon cast a bright light
On that most annoying sight,
And the elf of the season came hurtling out of the sky
With only eight tiny reindeer keeping him high.
With fleet and swift steps from the north they came,
As the jolly old man called them by name:
"Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer and Vixen,
"On! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Donder and Blitzen;
"To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
"Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
The grating order rang out in the night
Irking the creatures who would rather give fright.
They awaited the sleigh as it touched down in the yard
Of that family most devout, workers most hard,
Asleep in the house without worry or care
Knowing that St. Nick would always be there.
When the sleigh slowed down and Nick jumped out,
The creatures of darkness arose for the bout.
Startled and shook at this most foul of plots,
The attempt to ruin the season for good tots,
St. Nick muttered a prayer most fervent
As their curses this holy night did rent.
Drawing a bright sword gleaming from his sleigh
And strapping a shield upon his right arm straight away,
St. Nick sneered with disdain and contempt
As the hordes most foul and unkempt
Did approach with malice and hate
Seeking to change the most holy of fate.
With a wave of his hand at his companions this fair night.
The reindeer's harnesses did drop for the fight.
Arrayed against scores of fiends most foul
The elf of Noel gave his foes a fierce scowl.
"Know this, my crooked friends, as you seek your prey
"This elf was given his task by more than those fey
"Whom you fear and hate with all of your being
"And would destroy and usurp without even seeing
"That this season can be for you to celebrate, too
"Could you but see that your master duped you."
The creatures of darkness, foulness, and spite
Came not for words but a jolly good fight.
"Our master and we hate all that is fair,
"Your master and minions, your love and your care.
"They grate on our ears and itch each and every prat.
"For that and that alone would we happily hate," they spat.
"For all of the rest will we merrily slaughter and maim,
"And leave the remains to show all that you came.
"Thus ruining this season of sickening hope and joy
"They have corrupted with each gift and each toy
"That they buy without idea, thought, or glimmer of knowledge
"Of the meaning behind this season's birth into bondage
"Most holy and sickening with self-sacrifice and pain
"That their entrance to Heaven it would later gain."
St. Nicholas frowned and thought with heavy surprise
"So these creatures ponder upon more than I surmise,
"For they know of this season's meaning and intent
"Even if its perversion and destruction is their bent."
So with sword and shield and companions eight
St. Nick ventured forth to battle the minions of hate.
Swift strokes of his blade and a rousing war cry
Did his prowess at arms and his fury let fly.
Mean orcs and goblins and creatures most fell
Did he send with that sword on their way back to hell.
The hordes of the night and the shadows did descend
Upon the moon-lit snow their limbs and blood did end.
A scratch on his bearded cheek was oozing
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