horror

A Little Proof

The forest is gone where once a home.
A people lost, now destined to roam.
Legends of old speak of their race,
though only of blurs, never a face.
~
Smaller than dwarves, bigger than fairies,
their language mistaken for frantic canaries,
they’re easily missed being so small.
A full grown adult’s barely twelve inches tall.
~
Their numbers blossomed to one hundred per tree.
Nature, their home, they could be no more free.
They chose to stay hidden, out of harm’s way.
The choice wasn’t theirs, they learned the hard way.
~
The giants invaded with axes in hand.
They chopped and cut for towns they had planned.
Centuries have passed and the invasion persists.
The Liluns survived but only few still exist.
~
They still choose to hide and that’s probably good.
As the giants don’t always do as they should.
Their wishes fulfilled at whatever the cost.
This story’s the proof of the many who’ve lost.

~*~
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Getting Old

My story today is put on hold.
I’ve snow to shovel in the cold.
This foolish weather’s getting old.
I should move south, so I’ve been told.
~
Fresh air and sunshine’s what I need.
No more boots or coats of tweed.
No more shovels, my winters freed.
But there’ll be no speedo, that’s agreed.
~
What about sunburn, I burn fast,
a lesson learned from my past.
And the bugs, their numbers vast,
hurricanes too are often forecast.
~
I’d miss the autumn with colors bright.
And the pleasant walks on a summer’s night.
Spring of course brings a new days light.
So one more year I guess is alright.

~*~
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Fiscal New Year

The mistletoe’s gone for another year.
Alarm bells ringing bring no cheer.
The party’s over, Monday’s arrived,
the holiday’s done, at least I survived.
~
Back to normal I must now go.
Work I must to pay what I owe.
Bills are coming and debts surely grew.
Saving’s diminished; it’s time to make new.
~
Coffee is drunk but the mood is sober.
I’ve interest to pay, maybe done by October.
A resolution I’ve made to end this spree.
But Valentines is coming and gifts there will be.
~
So returns I’ll exchange as sales are waiting,
There are deals galore, no time for debating.
There’s much to do to start this New Year.
Hopefully by spring my plan will be clear.

~*~
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Figmented

In a little town not far from here,
there lived a star, a puppeteer.
She entertained children near and far.
While her husband played his old guitar.
~
The puppets danced and the kids all giggled.
The guitarist sang and everyone wiggled.
But behind the show’s curtain of green,
the puppeteer performs, always unseen.
~
But she’s not sad, she’s quite content,
the shows always fun and it pays the rent.
Their home life is great with two cats and a dog.
And in a pond nearby they had a pet frog.
~
Their children, now grown and moved far away,
but they all get together for Christmas day.
The tree lit up bright and gifts piled high.
They await the sunrise in the cold winter sky.
~
First up’s the grandkids, it’s time to explore.
Next was the dog that sleeps by the door.
The children were silent peaking at the gifts.
Each on lookout in five minute shifts.
~
Tape’s gently pulled and corners peeled back,
they had to work fast to get through the stack.
The children were careful to not make a mess,
because if caught, next year there’d be less.
~
It didn’t take long for them to realize,
the presents were fake and the pets were spies.
The children panicked and ran back to their beds,
to dream once more of dolls, blocks and sleds.
~
But the parents sat waiting at the top of the stairs.
The kids now caught broke down in tears.
They ruined Christmas and the parents were mad.
The grandparents were disappointed and that was sad.
~
A lecture was given while breakfast they ate.
Grandma’s lesson was that good things are worth the wait.
And that things are not always as they appear,
you can take it from her, she’s a puppeteer.
~
Breakfast was finished at a leisurely pace.
Anticipation beamed from everyone’s face.
Then a puppet appeared dressed as Santa Claus,
who passed out presents to much applause.

~*~
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Dusk to Dread

Monsters prowled the darkened streets.
The time was theirs to search for treats.
Deny their cravings if you dare,
but tricks certain for the unaware.
~
The moon was full and fog was thick.
This night they’ll feast, tomorrow sick.
Ghosts and goblins in shadows hide.
Porch lights flicker but stay outside.
~
Fairies welcome and clowns make fun.
Pirates afloat grab treasure and run.
Mummies abound wait for their turn.
Witches swoop to take what they yearn.
~
Werewolves howl barking desires.
The shrunken in wagons mostly criers.
Superheroes patrol to keep things in line.
The things all laugh cos their doing fine.
~
The much larger zombies follow the pack.
They beg and plead for an unwanted snack.
The air grew cooler, the end was near.
Then sleep soon ended another nightmare.

~*~
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What the Schmuck

With icy fingers and hidden hands,
an unseen face footless stands.
Awaiting the cough of their next guest,
no’s no answer for their request.
~
“Follow me; your time has come,
the path is short, the feeling’s numb.
Two packs a day gives you early admission.
Your time with me is but a transition.”
~
The reaper laughed at their instructions,
fearing not their many abductions.
They said the pain would fade away,
but how long they wouldn’t say.
~
I gasped for breath, not wanting to go.
Why must it be now I didn’t know.
I said I quit the smokes a few weeks back.
“I’ve only a cold so please cut me some slack.”
~
They laughed again at my poor excuse.
Saying my line was long but I choose the noose.
I begged and pleaded to be set free.
They replied that they had a deal for me.
~
I said “that’s great”, not having a clue.
They then told me all the things I must do.
Their list was long but I happily agreed.
I’d now do anything, if to only be freed.
~
They said they’d go but they’d leave a scar.
Then a loud scary cry was heard from afar.
The reaper then vanished and I lay alone,
reflecting on the habits I’m prone.
~
A new day’s begun and life’s the more dear.
The clock’s still ticking but the ends not so near.
I bargained with death but won’t press my luck.
And my future’s now brighter, no longer a schmuck.

~*~
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The Void

~
Bedtime soon and demons shall awake;
but with a soul gone there’s none to take.
The screams in my head scare the spirits away.
Nightmares fast-forward to the light of day.

The ghosts turn white when I yell boo.
And the Reaper can shove his sickle too.
Coz in reality horror lives and fantasy dies.
And sleep‘s just a void behind closed eyes.

~*~
sck072517

Day Anew or Deja Vu

I woke up nice and early,
to start my day off right.
I tip-toed to the kitchen,
to watch the new day’s light.
~
I made myself a coffee,
one sugar but never cream.
The water didn’t boil;
I thought it was a dream.
~
I went back to the bedroom;
I found I was still there.
I slept rather peacefully;
it gave me quite a scare.
~
The cat was also sleeping,
curled up in a ball.
I gave her a little scratch,
she didn’t move at all.
~
I nudged my sleeping wife,
she didn’t make a peep.
I cuddled up beside her,
hoping I’d fall asleep.
~
The cat was first to rise,
soon jumping off the bed.
My wife then too awoke,
turning her pretty head.
~
She didn’t even see me,
as I lay there by her side.
I could see she was awake,
her eyes were open wide.
~
I feared that I was dead,
now a ghost out to haunt.
I gazed into the mirror,
I did look rather gaunt.
~
My wife started screaming,
shaking the sleeping me.
I knew we had a problem;
the evidence’s plain to see.
~
The alarm then started ringing,
time came into view.
I gasped for needed air;
I then started the day anew.

~*~
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Haunting

The sun’s rising yet I’ve no rest,
another day a gruesome test.
The Reaper lurks on their quest,
spirits chide full of zest.
~
The nightmare over now the pain,
screams and howls fill my brain.
The constant fright drives me insane.
Ghosts taunt with no refrain.
~
The hour’s burn like gasoline,
agony fills the time between.
The past haunts a future unseen.
Is this life or Halloween?

~*~
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Under Where!

A big scary monster lives under my bed.
I never saw their body but maybe saw their head.
Every night they whisper when I try to sleep.
But when my mom comes in she doesn’t hear a peep.
~
My dad moved my bed and even switched my room.
But it didn’t really matter, my nights still filled with gloom.
They brought me to a doctor to get my head checked out.
They said that they found nothing, but I still have my doubt.
~
My sister teases me just like the kids at school.
She says that I’m a baby and being scared isn’t cool.
Every day on the bus the kids all laugh at my expense.
But I know I’m right and I think that they’re all dense.
~
My teacher thinks I’m crazy and doesn’t talk to me.
She says that I’m disruptive and that school isn’t free.
The principal just smiles and asks “how’s my day?”
But when I try to tell her she always walks away.
~
When the school bell rings I can’t wait to get outside.
But the bus’s always there and there’s nowhere I can hide.
It’s good the ride is short and soon it’ll be done.
My mom will be waiting and she’ll ask if I had fun.
~
I’ll tell her no and that I had gotten teased.
She’ll make her twisty face and say that she’s not pleased.
I hold her hand tightly and we both walk back inside.
She’ll help me with my homework until my brain is fried.
~
Then we share a snack before a visit from my friend.
We’ll talk a bunch till supper but then the fun will end.
I’m glad to have a friend who listens every day.
They hear the same old stories, even though they’d rather play.
~
Next we eat our supper then I’ll suffer through a bath.
Bedtime must be coming soon and another night of wrath.
My door mostly closed and my nightlight’s set on high,
I rest with one eye open and watch the moon rise in the sky.
~
When the moon got small my eyes began to close.
The monster then tried to eat me and it started with my toes.
But finally the nightmare is over and yes I was wrong.
There was no scary monster; it was just my cat all along.

~*~
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Dead Tired

.
Finally, the end of the longest day of my life was over. The tears of the past months now free to flow yet strangely absent. This old house quieter than ever, the door closing behind me and the true sense of emptiness was now being felt as I never thought possible.

Leading up to my wife’s death, friends, family and of course my daughter were always close by and the grief shared by all. Now the house is dark as I stand in the hallway not wanting to turn on the light for fear of seeing the reality of finally being alone.

The hall was brighter just this morning as the sun rose and my daughter and I went off to the funeral parlor for Liz, my wife’s final service before our trip to the cemetery. The morning was crisp and clear, a distant smell of lilac hung in the air as the cars lined up for the procession.

The route chosen was considerably longer than necessary but a twisty country road in full spring bloom is a sight to be enjoyed, even if it to be the last. The funeral itself was as beautiful as anyone could expect, the morning mist lingered in the new day and the birds serenaded in the background as hundreds of mourners passed to show love, friendship and respect for a truly remarkable person. A woman whom I loved deeply for many, many years but now feeling I never fully acknowledged as a person or professional and was regretting having not expressed it more when she was alive. I hoped she knew of my love and respect for her as a mother and friend, as a physician, scientist and teacher and of course as a very lucky man’s wife.

The next few days a similar sad and hazy blur, I just roamed from one room to the next recalling all the little things that happened in each one over the thirty years living here. Each had a story, a laugh or tear, all where ours, our colors, our furniture, our books and our clutter. Each and every piece a memory and all memories of an instant in time to never be repeated. A life time that was a life’s time in the making and yet gone in an instant.

Life goes on I’m told and I would like to believe that. I’m sure for many it does. For some however it’s just not meant to be. I realized this when the crumpled remains of my car was dumped in my driveway minutes ago. And I never got to say goodbye.

The End

sck061817 / dft

For the Birds

A summer morning lovely,
I dashed out for a walk.
The birds were singing cheerfully,
we all then had a talk.
~
They asked me where I’m going,
I told them I don’t know.
They said they’re not surprised,
that’s how humans go.
~
They’re always going someplace,
not often knowing where.
You’d think they own this planet,
the one we have to share.
~
I feared my life was over,
Hitchcock came to mind.
A war soon was coming,
everything against mankind.
~
I hurried home to safety,
not knowing what to do.
My dog now too looks scary,
gnawing on a plastic chew.

~*~
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Sweet Dreams

Monsters and ghouls prowl the street.
Ghosts hide beneath their sheet.
Zombies limp on bloody feet.
All are happy when they meet.
~
Black cats blend to be discreet.
Witches conjure but never cheat.
Werewolf’s howl when they greet.
All awaiting their Halloween treat.
~
Children rush for goodies to eat.
Parents long to take a seat.
Then the spell’s finally complete,
ending with dreams so sweet.

~*~
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Rest in Peace

The feeling was eerie and the air was cold.
And luck’s the reason this story’s told.
A misty moon mourned the starless night.
Finger-like branches obscured my sight.
~
A wrong turn made while homeward bound.
The path was new through unknown ground.
The fog grew thicker until all was black.
One misstep and I fell with a whack.
~
I tripped on a stone surrounded by more,
each a marker for a one-way door.
I’m surely welcomed but my time not right.
My eyes then drawn toward the light.
~
In the sky a lone star shone,
in a sea of billions we’re all alone.
Minutes in awe I lay there still,
but to soar with them I never will.
~
Thoughts of freedom filled my head,
but first to my feet amongst the dead.
A hand reached out to aid my rise.
My star consumed to my surprise.
~
A faceless figure was now my guide.
With a yank I was by their side.
My fate’s now held in arms unknown,
tip-toeing through that field of stone.
~
Iron gates clanged for us to follow.
An end perceived I did wallow.
The wind then howled its piercing felt.
Hale was next with ice to pelt.
~
Each breath shorter, each step less,
each second longer with greater the stress.
Suddenly my companion then mysteriously vanished.
Blindly I pawed for the safety I’d banished.
~
I yelled for help with no one to hear.
To die alone my biggest fear.
A tug at my ankle then sent me running.
Slipping on ice, the fall was stunning.
~
Blurry snowflakes covered my face.
Would I be found here frozen in place?
With one last breath I let out a scream.
And lucky was I to awake from that dream.

~*~
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Much Ado About Nothing

On a street that shouldn’t be there,
there’s a house that shouldn’t stand.
Its front is covered in thorny vines,
out back a yard of sand.
~
The windows are always open,
cats all come and go.
There’s a dog that barks all night,
it’s really a horror show.
~
There’s an old car in the driveway,
but no one has seen it move.
A radio’s always blasting upstairs,
so someone’s got the groove.
~
The locals all say it’s haunted,
they’ve heard stories all their life.
Newlyweds had once lived there,
but no one had ever seen the wife.
~
Packages and mail get delivered,
but the trash never goes out.
Imagination fills in the blanks,
cos that’s what fantasy’s about.

~*~
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Spooky Thoughts

The moment is near, the fear’s begun.
My nerves are frazzled, I’m under the gun.
A routine surgery, or so they say,
I think I’ll try to enjoy this day.
~
I woke up early to see the sun rise.
It could be the last to dazzle my eyes.
Crazy visions are filling my head.
It might be soon, I may be dead.
~
But that’s just nonsense, I’ll do great.
It’s too early to be called late.
The sun’s now high, distractions ensue.
Halloween awaits and I’ve much to do.

~*~
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Sleepy Town

Dusk shrouds foggy walks
Whispers heard when no one talks
The old town hall shines felicity
Its library shares the pageantry

Main Street bristles with conspicuous zeal
Spirits roam unseen when unreal
Tales abound of young maidens kissed
Faces unknown for souls unmissed

Yarns be spun of their tiny cove
Time surrounds, the mind does rove
Behind every door lie stories untold
Life in a village three hundred years old

High on the hill sits a Queen Anne alone
She’s peaks of copper and footing of stone
Her windows boarded to hide the view
Abandoned by the town, seen by few

The home once a school for wayward boys
Most had no families, none knew of toys
A cagey couple was completely in charge
Both small in stature yet looming large

The mistress taught letters with pointer or switch
The master kept numbers making them rich
Gruel’s fed to the students, the master’s meat
The boys froze; the pair warmed by their heat

Ablaze was the furnace ahead of each storm
The lads safely locked in their cold attic dorm.
Their sniffles and sneezes all kept at bay
The masters swept all the sickness away

Each year had runaways, never to be found
Searches end at the edge of school ground
Then came a young man sheltered in error
He promptly escaped and reported the terror

Inquires made, investigations were had
The masters left freely, the mayor glad
The school was closed with little fanfare
The boys sent away with little a care

Rumors lost from days long past
Horrors are hidden all too fast
No more’s said of the young boys plight
And another sun sets on a sleepy town’s night

~*~

sck121115

Left Behind

Lost in a wandering state of mind,
returning to memories I thought left behind.
A campground awaits from decades of yore,
There’s a lake nearby and nature galore.

Summers there filled with family and friends,
as the specter of youth unknowingly ends.
The journey’s now short to a time long past.
My cabin soon appears while the sun fades fast.

The sky was clear, blues deepened to black.
The stars shone bright, they welcomed me back.
I relaxed on the porch and sipped iced tea,
my friends due tomorrow the night was for me.

With waning moon the damp mist rose,
crickets serenaded, eyes started to close.
Blissful sensations then the start of dreams,
when startled was I by familiar screams.

Dolly, Dolly, Dolly! was all she ever said,
her childhood taunts now flooding my head.
She’s the ghostly remains of horrors we’d share.
The truth is haunting when better a nightmare.

She would scratch at the screen above my bed.
I’d shriek and shiver and cower with dread.
Mornings would come, I’d report of my fright,
“that little girl’s ghost came to take me last night”.

My brothers would tease and mom consoled,
dad says they’re figments of tales I’ve been told.
But when evenings cool and crescent moon high,
dense fog rose and that child would cry.

Dolly, dolly, dolly is all she would say,
Her bony hand summoned and pointed the way.
Never dared I answer her mournful request.
Silently I’d wait, ignoring my guest.

It’s been many years since last we met.
Time I’ve tried hard, but to never forget.
Now I’ve matured and conscience will decide.
Am I to seek or again shall I hide?

I know not what of this phantoms despair.
Yet together there’s grief we seemingly share.
Her woe is death while mine’s the living.
Each is assured though neither forgiving.

Our paths have crossed, all have an end.
My choice is made by this spirited friend.
With eyes open wide follow I must,
forsaking not, that lost child’s trust.

I rose and leaned forward, held out my hand.
Our fate’s to obey and to command.
We dashed through the field and into the woods.
A moment imagined of pleasant childhoods.

Each step echoes with brittle twig snap.
Till the shadows of trees soon overlap.
To guide my way mere slivers of light,
pursuing my phantom into the night.

Thicket and bramble claw at my skin,
bleeding the courage from deep within.
The worn paths end at fresh fallen leaf,
this forest beyond, beyond my belief.

Spirits roam free where the living don’t tread.
My friend had returned to her life of the dead.
I wished again to hide safe behind closed eyes,
trading this vision for dreams of blue skies.

The girl then pointed at boulders stacked high,
interwoven with brush to hide from the eye.
All layers of shadow, grays deepened to black,
foretelling the depth of crevice and crack.

Her hazy glow grew brighter, eyes more intense,
repeated cries for dolly now making sense.
She’s lost a dear friend and I’m chosen to find.
To abandon now this child was beyond unkind.

Exited are we, our quest’s nearly done.
‘Twas a test of persistence, both surely won.
My mind’s now a flutter, heart beating proud,
grasping in darkness through thick thorny shroud.

Our search going well till that last step was taken,
the ground then vanished, I was tumbled and shaken.
I awoke sometime later to whispers, mumbles and cries.
My new friend stood close as I opened my eyes.

I saw Dolly held tightly and a bustle nearby.
Mourners had grouped where a still body lie.
A lifeless figure with a familiar shape and size.
The live too are familiar, all saying goodbyes.

The little girl thanked me for my many good deeds.
As slowly she faded having found what she needs.
I begged to be taken for I’ve been truly kind.
When last she said “You need first find needs left behind.”

.
Sck021616

Keeping Spirits

Nature batters, scarring far and wide.
Forgotten battles forever tied.
Man and rock bear the loss of all who’ve died.
Rugged faces change with the changing of a tide.

Keeping the wary from a watery hell,
a craggy post a dutiful keeper dwell.
Keeping by day his glass shined bright,
by night he keeps his flame alight.

Warning all comers never to near,
this beacon of virtue is only to fear.
Bravely they stand against wind and wave,
the ocean master, keeper slave.

Chores of many, companions none.
Sleep begins when work is done.
Ventures end before the dark.
His light stands silent awaiting spark.

Beyond this rock and choppy cove,
a small town lie where tales are wove.
Stories of stormy seas abound,
and faraway lands where treasure’s found.

In town sits a churchyard overlooking the sea.
Where the keeper visits when a calm day’s free.
Collects his needs quickly, no time for desire.
His row is long to return to his fire.

Scores of seasons drifted behind.
The keeper and kept, two of a kind.
Their toils unnoticed, yet seen by all.
Keeping kept the keepers call.

Reflections of stars upon the sea.
Infinite horizons awaiting he.
A beacon to all, his lamp not aglow.
To see the light the keep did go.

The town sad for their keeper unknown.
He was buried with care as one of their own.
At the edge of the churchyard lie the keep.
With eternal vistas of the light and the deep.

Dozens of keepers tried to keep.
All had left quickly, missing their sleep.
Stories told of the old keeper’s ghost.
A most spirited and demanding of host.

He rattled windows and slammed doors,
once hid away the old rowboats oars.
His steps are heard on the stairs all night,
sometimes blowing out the lighthouse’s light.

On a chilly morn some years past,
a storm was brewing, approaching fast.
A hardy young sailor paddled for the light,
racing the waves ahead of the night.

With setting sun and drenching rain,
wind and waves pummeled, no refrain.
Shores altered with the rising tide,
The hilltop churchyard couldn’t hide.

The keeper’s remains returned to sea.
The young sailor now keeps – happily.
And ever since that fateful day,
the old keeps spirit kept at bay.

Sck102415dft

Hot and Cold Memories

We all walked to school without a care.
We stopped at the store with pennies to share.
Cats and dogs always ran free.
Trees were claimed by them and me.
~
We rode our bikes like we were all nuts.
Our hands and knees came home with cuts.
Bikes had brakes most of the time,
or slowed by sneakers covered in grime.
~
Any spot with grass was called a yard.
We swam in places with no lifeguard.
Snowballs were made no matter the cost.
We wore socks on our hands when gloves were lost.
~
We all had to fight every once in a while.
Our moms would yell but dads would smile.
Rooms were shared and sometimes beds,
smelly feet tickling their brother’s heads.
~
Then junior high came and we had to change.
Our hair grew long and our clothes got strange.
Many smoked cigarettes and other stuff.
There were lots of choices but enough was enough.
~
Childhood then ended and the troubles began.
When the problems started most of us ran.
Some now have passed; some did well,
but all fondly remembered though it was hell.

~*~
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A Bad Story

A story begins when an adventure’s been had.
And for two young lads their end was bad.
They choose to skip school on a bright sunny day.
While deep in the woods the sky turned gray.
~
They veered from the path when a chipmunk ran past.
They bolted and darted but the critters too fast.
Resting beneath a lush canopy of green,
the fast moving clouds they hadn’t seen.
~
The temperature dropped as the sky turned black.
The boys had no clue of how they’d get back.
Rain fell in buckets, the pair soaked to the bone.
The howls and growls meant they weren’t alone.
~
The pair was now hungry, cold, tired and afraid.
Both very sorry for the choices they made.
Each made a promise to do as they should.
And if they survived they’d always be good.
~
Shivering all night, either could sleep.
A nightmare they lived while both counted sheep.
Through teary eyes a new dawn was seen,
and the boys now as happy as they’d ever been.
~
They rose with a burst and sang out in joy.
Then a bear was spotted and she was no toy.
The children screamed and ran off in fear.
But the bear stayed put with berries so near.
~
Each boy choose a different path, now each alone,
if ever reunited both now more grown.
The day warmed up nicely and a search was begun.
But unfortunately by sunset they’d only found one.
~
Days past and reinforcements were called in.
The lake was dragged and patience grew thin.
The boys’ chance of survival was now very slim.
Most of the town folk figured the bear had found him.
~
The police told his parents clothing was found.
And also nearby there was blood on the ground.
The boys’ mom screamed seeing his shirt.
It being torn and bloody and covered with dirt.
~
The search was called off that day at sunset.
The boy that was found was now full of regret.
Another week passed and a service was planned.
A headstone was chosen and shovels were manned.
~
The church was full with mourners from afar.
Then a ranger drove up with a boy in the car.
The boy ran in the church yelling “I’m sorry and glad”.
“I’m glad to be alive but sorry for being bad”.
~
Hugged by his parents who were both quite relieved.
He then told his story that’s hard to be believed.
Punished all summer, he was not allowed out.
The adventure was uncertain, but a story, no doubt.

The End

~*~
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