Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Haunted House

A window whistles, a stairwell creaks,
Alive with monsters, alight with freaks.
Curtains rustle; a clock strikes eight,
A stifled scream, a whine of fate.

Deafening footsteps caress the floor,
a body slumps still; another more.
A crackle of magic, another dead
dust filled rooms glow orange and red

Wide eyed blues watch from a narrow slit
As evil races and dark fairies flit.
Two more taken by falling beams,
Anguish silenced over siren screams.

Four remain where eight once crept,
Falling still where fire leapt
Hearts ignite with one last heat,
But claws catch at their thudding feet.

A boarded up sign sways in silent breezes,
The roaring flames bites and freezes.
Eyes water where throats are parched,
Ashen remains where the dark light marched.

Yellow coats arrive at the scene,
Spraying hope where children were last seen,
Breaths catch in broken hearts,
Bodies removed in covered carts.

Twelve break down and four remain,
Hoping that prayers are not in vain,
Two more leave and as much stay,
Begging, for their child, another day.

A flash of blue, a singed dark lock:
One survived where others did not,
And ignored in the relived shouts and cries,
Is the glint that shines in impish eyes.
Fires die down but evil lives on,
Hidden behind the victories won,      
And when all think it has been kept at bay,
Then it shall return on that day.