August 26, 2010, 2:27 AM

4 Comments

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  • Story
    • ManOnTheMoon
    • Past the ocean, and into the clouds, we sail into the sun...

    Poem Commentary

    Just a little story, I might try to re-do later, or keep it as it is.

    August 26, 2010, 2:27 AM

    You enter the house,
    Dark and dusty,
    Moon light streaming through the broken rafters,
    Holes in the ceiling let lose to the rain,
    Blowing and bellowing,
    Sheet by sheet smashes against this old home.
    The door creaks its moaning cries,
    Slamming shut with a sudden bang,
    Jumping and turning you see your fate,
    That you are trapped and forced to continue.
    "Just the wind and nothing more."
    Shuffling along you hear a rattle,
    Chains and pots dance about as the wind toys with them,
    Sheets on the beds toy with your sight,
    As they pick up and drop off,
    Almost as if they have a life of their own.
    The kitchen drawers contents shuffle about,
    Shaking them in their place on their tracks,
    "Just the roaches and nothing more."
    Entering a room,
    Mirrors wreak havoc as you see your true self,
    Tarnished by the dust that has settled all around,
    Aged by the cracks smashed into them.
    Leaving this room,
    The stairs groan under your weight,
    Sending shivers down your spine,
    As you go up,
    And up,
    Higher into the hollows of this house.
    "Just my imagination and nothing more."
    The top of the stairs bares new light,
    Gapping holes and smashed out windows,
    Gun shot walls and burnt out doors,
    Reveals the fate of the old family.
    Just another stupid dare,
    To enter the house of such affairs,
    To not believe in the stories,
    But to live them up close.
    "Just a story and nothing more."
    You open a door and fall to the floor,
    A lady in white stands by the bed,
    Her back towards you,
    But also her head,
    She looks at you with no eyes,
    A grin with no lips parts her teeth.
    Flowing hair falling out,
    Chunks of flesh ripped out,
    She turns her body towards you,
    Her head turning with it,
    Never leaving your gaze.
    Her hand shoots forward,
    A single finger pointing,
    You stumble as you feel it pressing into you,
    With out ever making contact with your skin.
    Her jaw drops and a gurgle emerges from her throat,
    In your mind you hear her words,
    "You thought to much
    You came to far
    You saw your fears and still pressed on.
    Your life tonight
    Will change in fright,
    For you are never leaving here
    Alive."
    Turning around you see her there,
    She never leaves your sight.
    You run to the stairs but they are gone,
    You close your eyes,
    You take a flying leap,
    landing where your feet last parted,
    Opening your eyes you realize,
    You did not jump,
    After all.
    Still on the second story,
    "This can not be!"
    You tell yourself,
    The fear now growing real.
    Laughter surrounds you as you try once again,
    You land now where you once began,
    The door still shut,
    Yet you tug and pull,
    This ghost is not finished with you.
    You run again,
    To the back,
    Tripping and falling as the ghost grabs your foot.
    Struggling and fighting,
    You rise to your feet,
    Only to stare at yourself,
    Dusted and cracked.
    In a room of mirrors,
    The reflections start to scream at you,
    Your hidden lies and untold truths,
    Spilling out of their mouths,
    Like the putrid fluids coming out of unseen gashes.
    The mirrors all seem to have your face,
    Twisted and screaming in pain,
    As they show your fate,
    Never leaving this house again.
    Looking away from these images,
    All around,
    You close your eyes,
    Only to open them and see the change,
    There are no doors to the out side world,
    Only mirrors covering it all.
    Trapped inside these walls close in,
    With doorways and windows long departed,
    They close until arms length with no escape,
    Portraying your image on them all,
    Like a Halloween Special on Karn-Evil.
    At your feet,
    Lie a sheet,
    Wrapped around your foot.
    Punching and kicking,
    The mirrors do not break,
    The truth hits home,
    "Im living this nightmare,
    Im not waking up."

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    AbysmalGoddess commented on August 26, 2010, 2:27 AM

    11-20-2010

    This really reminds me of "The Raven" with "just the wind and nothing more, just the roaches, and nothing more." And you provide the psychological thrill that EAP does as well. I like it, write on. ~Abys

    Lillixfan14 commented on August 26, 2010, 2:27 AM

    09-24-2010

    Ok so when i saw it i was like "Damn this is too long" ur right it wasnt...good job

    sk8erpoet commented on August 26, 2010, 2:27 AM

    08-30-2010

    i love it......great write.....awesomely written......great job buddy....sk8

    lonewolf commented on August 26, 2010, 2:27 AM

    08-27-2010

    This is FANTASTIC!!!! Let me say one thing to sum this up. Edgar Allen Poe, reborn in the 21st Century. You are the new EAP. Will read more tomorrow! You cant rate this on a scale. It deserves so much higher.

    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

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