Middnight demons

As I hear the first of the twelve strokes of midnight from a far away bell tower, I get up from my bed, slip on my nightdress and sit in the middle of my room. A chill comes in and I shiver. The wind opens my window and blows my curtains. They are coming, the Midnight demons. Every night they come to take me. They chant and dance around me. They shout insults and profanities, have orgies while probing my defences for weaknesses. Their cries of rage tear the night. But I stay untouchable inside my Pentagram waiting for sunrise.