Why oh why does that child stare at me?
I’m just here, in these black dreary shadows.
A harmless, ghostly spirit stuck between the veil.
He sneaks down those steps, into my cellar.
I see his eyes, wide open, staring, scaring himself;
his teeth white and glistening.
I try to fade out, like an old TV signal, but fail;
he just stands there with this weird grin.
On Sunday’s the family has a nice meal and
here he comes to the basement corner
I’m here, always here, and he’s there, staring,
always glaring, forever daring me to move.
But no, no, no, I won’t, I cannot.. I have neither
the strength of heart nor hatred within to oblige.
So it’s a game of wonderance, he comes to the cellar;
to watch the dark man staring back at him, he glares,
beckoning me “come closer”. Never! But perhaps,
one day I shall give him the scare he looks for, after
all, Halloween is always just ’round the corner!

If you liked this, read his previous entry at The Ugly Writers:

the ugly writers

Ken Allan Dronsfield

1 comment so far

Prince Cortas

Nice one

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