‘Twas the night of Christmas; the man crept up to the house.
He had killed before; he would kill again; yet, he kept this hidden from his spouse.
He walked up to the front door, and turned the handle;
The only light was that coming from a burning candle.
He quietly entered the home clad only in black,
With a butcher’s knife concealed he would later use to hack.
Scanning the first floor, he knew the routine;
He had been there before to scope out the scene.
The man was known as Frost, the Holiday Killer.
He was responsible for giving the small town a bit of a chiller.
He dashed to the stairs, but without a sound.
Frost was excited, yet sweating with nerves: a family of four he had found.
The moon peeked through the window and glowed bright;
The snow eased down, creating a dreadful Christmas fright.
He reached the second story, spotted the first room;
No one could have predicted this fearsome, December doom.
Frost opened the barrier with a quiet squeak;
Both teenage boys jolted awake with freak.
He sprang to the bed, revealing his stabbing tool.
Thick dark gloves to conceal prints: his biggest rule.
Frost began slashing and cutting, not looking at a face.
And soon, sticky red blood was flowing all over the place.
Finished with the two, Frost moved down the hall in a flash.
Raising his weapon again, he brought it down in a smash.
The woman screamed; her husband tried to fight;
No more peace on Earth; nothing was all right.
Pools of scarlet gushed to the floor.
Frost enjoyed every moment, right down to the dirty core.
His work was almost complete now; his murdering done.
Who knew taking innocent lives could be this much fun?
Time for the finishing touch, one last part.
He picked up a body and started to cart.
He placed all four bodies in the snow; freezing them was his calling.
Admiring his skill, he left, not realizing his falling.
The police soon arrived; the lead detective was Ned.
The big surprise, however, the man of the house wasn’t quite dead.
The father of two and widower of one,
Looked at the detective and knew what he had done.
Ned was recognized and proven to be Frost.
And at that moment, the killer knew he had lost.
Medics came, reporters, too.
And many more men, all dressed in blue.
Frost, the Holiday Killer, was taken away;
He would no longer ruin another joyous day.
The cruisers were packed up and driven out of sight,
Giving a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.