Fantasy

Nevermore

The wind beats at my door
And shrieks my name-
An owl hoots as it takes flight
And a raven croaks & takes it place.
The air thickens with tension-
A murky, cloudy soup- congealing
As the moon rests on its throne
Made of phosphorescent stars.
A mice scurries with a crumb-
Tiny eyes cautious and round
And cheshire eyes survey from its perch.
The old house, rickety without rhythm,
Joins the harmony of cacophonous noise-
creaking as the foundation sways
And bends as without ploy.
From the basement,
Once flooded with pockets of mildew stains-
A sudden noise erupts
And footsteps are near
As I clunk down the stairs
Without a stitch of iconic fear.
Emaciated digits grip for purchase
As I fiddle for the light switch,
A gruesome crescent of rotted gums
Spread wide as I look here and there-
Blind to the heavy amounts of dread,
Sodden and burgeoned like lead.
As my Doom creeps with genteel grace
I gasp
As my phone beeps
and
A sound from the attic pops through the air-
Stomp stomp stomp
Death comes in three!
a rabbit appears and grins in glee.
I abandon all sense as I flee
Followed by the tick tock tick
And decaying flesh clings and suspends
As the air stills as I screech

A queen of the night-
A banshee without death to keep her humble-
I wander and hunker through the mud
And scream to the sky
As I die
Before the Ravens eyes!

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