Dead of the night

Just a poem I came up with after a dream that I had. I like it.

The dark moon rose with the spirits of lore,
Never have I seen them act this way before.
With howls of terror burned in their faces,
each and every one running their own paces.
The death bells tolled and hour past twelve
and each spirit froze and huddled each self.
Each one looked to me as I stood stareing,
their faces were hellish with no sense of careing.
I turned and ran for my life I feared,
but the quicker I ran the closer they neared.
My collar was jerked and I flew to the earth,
they looked down upon me with merciless mirth.
My body was cold with the weathers coat,
I tried to scream out but it froze in my throat.
The hands decended upon me with murderous delight
my last visions were of the moon in the dead of the night.