I heard a noise while reading deep
about a dark and eerie time,
and turned around and looked about
but nothing out-of-place could find.
I went back to my scary tale, but
felt the hair on my arms arise....
I surreptitiously turned my head
to peer out sideways of my eyes.

To my chagrin, which turned to dread,
I watched a gloomy figure float
across the room and through the door,
and felt its presence, now remote,
call back to me in somber tone
to follow him, and venture forth
for there were many spirits near;
and so I trailed this entity swarth.

The stealthy moon cast silvered light
from back of clouds of murky dark;
the trees stretched out their eerie arms
that made the path I trod so stark.
I stumbled on, I knew not how,
to where I heard the whispers keen;
the howling wind tore at my clothes.
I stumbled on a dreadsome scene.

A cauldron in the center roiled,
the fire licked flames of orange-red;
the spirits danced and leaped and ran,
and all but me appeared as dead.
The raven moved from limb to limb,
the owl peered down with eyes that gleamed.
Then suddenly I woke from sleep:
Thank God the nightmare was just a dream!
Or was it?
     ©   Joyce P. Hale