He protested he could hear the ghost’s
pounding on the bed post’s.
He heard them scraping, scratching in his head,
he protested he could hear their screams,
pounding beating upon the night air.
Dreams became nightmares,
ghoulish and grim.
He protested the ghost’s were coming for him,
soon at midnight his screams echoed through the corridors,
by morning he was nowhere to be found.
Nothing but scratches on his wall were found it said: “Help They are under my bed.”
© By Amanda D Shelton