What's under the stairs?
It doesn't matter where you live,
Or what your house is made from.
If you have a flight of stairs,
Three rules you must be clear on.
Number one, don't stamp upstairs,
Or stomp and bang and clatter.
The terror that awaits below,
Can hear your every patter.
Number two don't stop halfway,
In fact don't stop at all.
To pause will make you easy prey,
The terrors on the ball.
Most importantly rule three,
The smartest one to know.
The safest way to use the stairs,
Is in a bungalow.
What's in the cupboard?
Have you ever been to the top of the stairs?
There’s something up there that is full of nightmares.
A cupboard at the back, behind all the boxes,
Nobody knows where the key to the lock is.
No noises at all can be heard from inside.
But something is there, maybe something that died?
Maybe it’s dead and it came back to life?
Maybe it’s in there sharpening it’s knife!
Curiosity kills cats but you can’t resist,
What could be in there? What could exist?
You’re creeping in further, the floorboards are creaking,
If you’re mum found you here you just know she’d be freaking.
Your hand reaches out and touches the door,
Something is wrong that you just can’t ignore.
The lock has been opened... The door is ajar,
Too late to run, too late by far.
Something just sneezed! Something within!
This is a fight that you really can’t win.
Open the door! Do you think you are ready?!
It’s your little sister, playing snap with her teddy.
What's behind the curtain?
Tossing and turning, too hot to sleep,
All you can hear is the house start to creak.
Everything seems a bit different at night,
You're sorely tempted to turn on the light.
The windows are open,
A breeze starts to blow.
With every gust,
Your fear starts to grow.
Bringing the sheets right up to your face,
Eyes start to widen, heart starts to race.
There's a shadow down there that doesn't look right,
It can't be the dog, not quite the right height.
Hold on, wait a minute, something is moving,
It's right by the window, a frightening new thing.
You know where it is, you're totally certain,
It appears to be standing inside the left curtain.
Frozen in bed, shudder with dread,
This thing in your room is playing games with your head.
In this situation, I would recommend,
Something seriously simple can be your best friend.
Keep a small torch just under the bed,
Be brave, be bold, get a grip, clear your head.
Click on the light, make sure it's working,
Shine it on the curtain to find out what's lurking.
You jump! It's jumps! You stop, it's stops too,
It's your shadow you twit, you're looking at you.
What's down the toilet?
If you could put into words,
The scariest thing,
You couldn't describe,
The Grumspiker King.
A tyrant and monster,
And evil so sly,
Don't look in his face,
Or your granny might die.
He lives on his own,
At the top of his tower,
In the Kingdom of Slurgh,
Where he has all the power.
If you look down the toilet,
Between midnight and dawn,
You can see down to Slurgh,
(If the curtains are drawn).
So be careful in future,
If you wee in the night,
The Grumspiker's watching,
So turn on the light.