There are many strange and scary things in the world, Michael Jackson, Joan Rivers, In Sync, Rosie O'Donnell, Howard Dean...but how many more lurk behind the thin veil of our perceived reality?
There is this thing that hides in my basement.
You cannot see it in the light.
It is silent and deadly, I am sure
and it only comes out at night
As a child I was horribly afraid
to go down there at night all alone,
knowing some terrible fate would await
like tearing my flesh from the bone
My dad said I was a sissy, the basement was all right
and made me go down just to prove it was so.
Then came the dreaded moment when I turned off the light
and ran madly up the stairs as fast as I could go
I knew, you understand, yes, I definitely KNEW
the un-namable monster was hot on my heels.
I could feel it’s fetid breath on the rising hair on my neck,
the terror making my heart pound, maybe you know how that feels.
It never caught me, this god-awful Thing
and it’s been many decades since I left that old house,
yet I still have qualms going downstairs in the dark.
When I turn off the light to come up, God forbid I hear a mouse.
For as sure as I’m alive, I know deep in my soul
I will still run up the stairs like crazy, heart rate too high
and one night I will be finally too old and too slow
then the un-namable Thing will catch me and I will die.
I have a theory, you see, that explains it all.
There is another metaphysical dimension
perhaps a parallel universe or alternate world
just outside our limited sensory perception
But when the conditions are right and we elevate our focus,
GAD. I wish I had a basement, even with a thing in it...living in tornado alley with no shelter makes one nervous. Forget about things in shadowy places *laughing nervously*
Still, and all, this is an excellent, effectively creepy write, guaranteed to gooseflesh the reader who stumbles upon this one. BRAVO, Poet!
brings back memories... i really liked this, but i actually loved our basement (unless it was super dark; then i had my reservations...LOL)...boy, wish i had a basement NOW....*sighhhh*
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :)
The attic has the same effect on me as the cellar; both manage to weave their way into my short stories unbidden. Your description of the heart-pounding terror is on the money -- not easy to do in the confining space of poetry, but you've done so effortlessly. Nice work!
Did you ever wonder what happened after the Archangel Michael through the demons out of heaven? Let one of them guide you through the origin of evil in the world.
GAD. I wish I had a basement, even with a thing in it...living in tornado alley with no shelter makes one nervous. Forget about things in shadowy places *laughing nervously*
Still, and all, this is an excellent, effectively creepy write, guaranteed to gooseflesh the reader who stumbles upon this one. BRAVO, Poet!
(((HUGS))) and love *cringe*, Karla. :)
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :)