Fright!

There’s a rustle down the garden
Beneath the fallen tree
A movement that is tantamount
To scare the socks off me

A thought that someone’s watching
From yonder gate near stones
A prick of conscious angst perhaps
That chills the blood and bones

Perception or a bad omen
In shadow of the moon
A person lurking, waiting to
Strike out; to hit real soon

A feeling that they’re watching
Just biding time until
They move when least expected
In stealth to make the kill

Whence then a shriek will pierce the air
And freeze you to the spot
The fright; the dread; the hopelessness
Where sweat beads cold not hot

And yet in truth there’s nothing
Less rampant fears in sight
The ramblings of a fractious mind
That spooks you out at night

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Nightmare

And from the dreams that haunt her night
An image comes right into sight
Alone in valley of the dark
As dread implants and fear embarks
So still in isolated place
Where apparitions crowd for space
Where rocks have risen from the ground
In heights of granite steadfast bound
And wolves howl loud on frosted air
Her blood chills cold in pure despair

And there she stands by cottage door
Heart beating fast; foothold not sure
With beads of sweat upon her brow
Hands trembling from the here and now
And voice diminished; lost and gone
Encased in blackness whereupon
With groaning might the rusted hinge
Of door unleashes to impinge
Her mind still further into dream
Yet frozen still; hear distant scream

The cottage stark; set back in rock
A far off wail. A bang! Knock! Knock!
The oaken door creaks open wide
‘Gainst better judgement steps inside
Ahead a staircase draped in thread
Of spider’s yarn yet overhead
The cries of victim’s days long gone
Whimper in spell of their swan song
Through silence as fear grips her soul
Eyes searching for the ghost and ghoul

Beseeching him to show his face
Yet cowering as heart picks up pace
And spectre lurches to take hold
Lest dare she move; dare then behold
The hooded figure hiding there
In shadows waiting to ensnare
His bride; his prize; his trophy won
Where he’s triumphant; she is done
All cloaked in hues of black and grey
She is his meal! She is his prey!

She is his meal! She is his prey!
The stark reality of day
Light streams in room to wake her from
The dream that’s pound her mind like drum
She yawns and stretches; frees her mind
To rise and put nightmare behind
But as she does the light goes out
Her shackles chink; she cannot shout
As gag that binds her suffocates
And living nightmare seals her fate

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