A little horror story written in the form of a sonnet. Hope it gives you goosebumps.
He tries to shout for help, express his dread
But hands and claws are tight around his throat
And desperate he tries the ties to shred
His conscious thoughts, they slow, begin to float
And suddenly he is awake again
Pajama tangled ’round his sweaty neck
His heart is pounding and with stomach pain
Relieved he’s leaning back, he’s not a wreck
Then on his chest he sees a dreadful trace
Of claws, and he recalls, the goat-like face
October 21 a dark evening before going to bed.