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Horror poem that I wrote... with an alternate ending.

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    Horror poem that I wrote... with an alternate ending.

    I've been working on this for nearly 10 years but finally decided to finish it before Halloween... Enjoy

    I woke one night, twas very late;
    I heard a noise within.
    With no moonlight, I lit my lamp
    And listened once again.

    I saw no one around my bed,
    But felt a presence still.
    An eerie lull befell the room
    As the air began to chill.

    Feigning courage, I asked, ?Who?s there,?
    Though I hoped for no reply.
    But then a whisper called my name
    And my lamp began to die.

    The darkness was a looming fear,
    So I raced out my bedroom door,
    But I failed to reach the study,
    Before my flame burned no more.

    I placed my hand upon the wall
    And used it as my guide.
    For without light, I could not see,
    And thus was terrified.

    Creeping down the unlit passage,
    My senses; they did pique.
    The smell of soot was in the air;
    The floor did ever creak.

    Not once before had I took note;
    The fractured plaster wall.
    But on that night, my fingertips,
    Revealed them one and all.

    With threadbare socks upon my feet,
    The floor below was biting.
    Combined with darkness, as well the chill,
    The path was uninviting.

    At long last I found the edge
    Of the doorway to my den,
    And slowly made my way inside,
    To obtain the lamp therein.

    I knew the lamp was on my desk
    And was desperate for its light.
    Hoping that it would quell my fears
    And get me through the night.

    Soon enough I found my desk;
    As well the lamp thereon.
    And prayed that its protective glow
    Would last until the dawn.

    Having placed a box of matches
    Inside the center drawer,
    I pulled it open carefully
    And let my hands explore.

    With quills and papers set aside
    The box was quickly found.
    But as I went to pick it up,
    I heard a hollow sound.

    A single match was left inside,
    My outlook seemed quite drear.
    For if it failed to strike a flame,
    All hope would disappear.

    With routine form, I prepped the lamp,
    Feeling blindly in the dark.
    The glass removed; I raised the wick
    To prime it for its spark.

    As I retrieved that last lone match,
    My hands; they still did shake.
    So I took a breath to calm myself,
    For I could bear not one mistake.

    In one quick strike, the darkness broke,
    As the match released its fire.
    And with great care, I lit the lamp,
    Which set my spirits higher.

    I replaced the glass and set the wick,
    To provide sufficient glow.
    With eyes adjusting to the light,
    My pulse began to slow.

    The room took shape as light shone out,
    And all seemed as it should.
    With waning fear, I felt as though,
    I had misunderstood.

    I began to feel a sense of calm,
    My anxieties were allayed.
    I closed my eyes and bowed my head
    And silently, I prayed.

    I smiled a bit and took a breath,
    As I sat up in my chair,
    I looked around the room and sighed,
    And reflected on my scare.

    Perhaps the chill that filled the air
    Was a drafty windowpane.
    And for the voice which called to me,
    Was imagined, just the same.

    How foolish now, I began to feel,
    For the way I had behaved.
    My common senses were seized away,
    As though they were enslaved.

    I stood up and gazed outside,
    But could not see the field,
    For my lamps fire had caused a glare,
    And instead my room, revealed.

    Behind me I could see the den,
    And the layout of the room,
    But something strange was out of place,
    And my panic did resume.

    I wasn't sure what had caught my eye,
    So I took in each detail,
    And in the corner of the room,
    Was a shape both tall and pale.

    I feared to look but had to see,
    My heart did ever race,
    And when it moved and the floorboard creaked,
    A tear rolled down my face.

    This now was something truly real,
    And not imaginary,
    Overwhelmed with fear, I could not move,
    My feet and legs felt buried.

    Behind me stood a heartless fiend,
    With an evil looking grin,
    I heard its breath and then its voice,
    As it spoke my name again.

    Its voice was sharp and cutting,
    Its skin was smooth and white,
    Its face was somewhat sunken in,
    With blue eyes; dead as night.

    It was not a male or female,
    And moved with a stuttered stride,
    But in the time it took to blink,
    It stood right at my side.

    I slowly turned and looked its way,
    As I trembled like a leaf,
    "What do you want," I worriedly asked,
    Its response was not so brief.

    "I want your soul" it began to say,
    "To add to my collection"
    "I feed on fear and yours is sweet"
    "Like a sugary confection".

    ?You'll forever spend eternity?
    ?Inside my wicked mind?
    ?No matter what you say or do"
    ?No respite will you find.?

    That fate was more than I could bare,
    So I summoned all my nerve,
    One chance was all I had to fight,
    So I left none in reserve.

    With everything I had inside,
    I broke free from fear's embrace,
    I quickly turned and grabbed the lamp,
    And commenced a mortal chase.

    Chaos broke out inside the room,
    As the beast began pursuit,
    I wasn't very far ahead,
    And now it was en route.

    As I fled the den, into the hall,
    The lamplight danced about,
    I could barely see the path ahead,
    My salvation was in doubt.

    To the staircase, I made my way,
    As quickly as I could go,
    Descending to the lower floor,
    Just where, I did not know.

    I had to find a place to fight,
    And a weapon to save my life,
    So to the kitchen, I made my way,
    To grab the sharpest knife.

    I heard the beast come down the stairs,
    Moving slower than before,
    I set the lamp atop the stove,
    And prepared for all out war.

    I lowered down and spread my feet,
    To adopt a fighting stance,
    I gripped the knife, tighter still,
    This was my only chance.

    I heard the floorboards creak again,
    As well, I heard it breathing,
    I knew that it was very near,
    And that its blood was seething.

    I watched the doorway for any sign,
    Of movement from the beast,
    But silence fell upon the house,
    And uncertainty increased.

    Seconds ticked by without a sound,
    Until the realization.
    The beast, somehow, had circled 'round,
    And behind me, took up station.

    Moonlight began to fill the room,
    As the cloudy skies did part.
    A shadow moved upon the wall;
    Our war was about to start.

    I whipped around to face the beast,
    And yelled a roar, most primal.
    Instincts would now decide my fate;
    Be it death or my survival.

    I swung the knife in a stabbing blow,
    But the beast was first to strike.
    Its claws had tore across my shirt,
    And ripped my chest alike.

    I stabbed again with all my might,
    This time, it found its mark.
    And as it did, the beast cried out,
    And its eyes appeared to spark.

    It struck again with flailing claws,
    My shirt was soaked and shredded,
    So I stabbed once more into its heart,
    And left the knife embedded.

    Stepping back, it began to reach,
    For the handle of the blade.
    So I grabbed a pan and swung it hard,
    And left the beast dismayed.

    I'd cracked its jaw with the iron pan,
    And so its demeanor changed,
    For it now knew the sense of fear;
    A sensation far too strange.

    I swung again and hit the knife,
    And plunged it deeper still.
    The beast fell down upon its knees,
    And I prepared to make the kill.

    As I began my final blow,
    It scornfully looked my way.
    Blood was pouring from its mouth,
    But it still had much to say.

    The beast cursed and vowed to take my soul,
    But I knew that it was lying,
    Its words were merely empty threats,
    And no longer horrifying.

    I took a breath and swung once more,
    As hard as I could bear,
    And as I did the beast looked up,
    With a sad but hateful stare.

    This time I crushed its hairless skull,
    And I heard the beasts last sigh,
    It promptly fell onto the floor,
    And I gladly watched it die.

    I stood above its horrid corpse,
    Thinking I had won the war,
    But when I looked and saw my wounds,
    I beheld much blood and gore.

    Its claws had ripped my skin to shreds;
    I too was a gruesome sight.
    With grisly wounds along my veins,
    I would not survive the night.

    I descended to the blood soaked floor,
    For I could no longer stand,
    Though satisfied that I'd slain the beast,
    My death was close at hand.

    I wondered if I had freed the souls,
    That the beast had proudly taken,
    Or perhaps that tale was just a ruse;
    The truth, it had forsaken.

    I sat there in the pale moonlight,
    And began to hear a sound.
    The ticking of the hallway clock,
    Was calming but profound.

    Each tick was a second of my life,
    That I tried to hold on to,
    But as my blood spilled to the floor,
    There was nothing I could do.

    I wondered where the beast was from,
    And how it chose its prey,
    Though it didn't really matter,
    As I slowly passed away.

    I'd fought my fight with bravery,
    One could hardly hope for more.
    I'd stood up against an evil beast,
    Like few had done before.

    I prayed again, one final time,
    Then gently closed my eyes,
    I took one last shallow breath,
    And then accepted my demise.

    In the hallway, the clock struck three,
    And the bells began to chime,
    But by the third and final bell,
    I had ran out of time.

    My life was gone, as well my cares,
    What was next, was still unclear,
    But I was equipped to face it now;
    Completely void of fear.

    Scroll down for alternate ending.

    Then all at once, I gasped for air,
    And rose up from my bed,
    All that happened, that night it seemed,
    Took place inside my head.

    The morning sun had began to rise;
    And the room was well defined.
    Everything seemed the way it should,
    Except my frame of mind.

    I couldn't shake the eerie feeling,
    That it was more than just a dream,
    But I'd never had a nightmare,
    Of something so extreme.

    I got out of bed and searched the house,
    And the course of that nights chase,
    But could not find a single item,
    That was mildly out of place.

    I searched the kitchen for any clue,
    But found no sign of strife,
    So I wrote it off as fantasy,
    And went on with my normal life.

    Never again did I see the beast,
    Or feel its presence near,
    But I'd always have the memory,
    Of the night I faced my fear.
    Last edited by Scott C4/5; 27 Oct 2019, 2:18 PM.

    Nice work!


      Alfred Hitchcock like. Nice read.
      Attack life, it's going to kill you anyway
      Steve Mcqueen (Mr Cool)


        Thanks, triumph and Gearhead...


          Please let me know which ending you prefer...


            That was excellent! It could be written in short story format, too. I like the first ending because it was real, and not a dream like the second ending implies. You should send it out to publishers, there are many online.

            These guys send out a lot of writing contests and gigs that pay money. They have a lot of info to help writers succeed. They have never charged a single dime, it's all free. Good luck man, that was a great read

            Please donate a dollar a day at
            Copy and paste this message to the bottom of your signature.



              Originally posted by rdf View Post
              That was excellent! It could be written in short story format, too. I like the first ending because it was real, and not a dream like the second ending implies. You should send it out to publishers, there are many online.

              These guys send out a lot of writing contests and gigs that pay money. They have a lot of info to help writers succeed. They have never charged a single dime, it's all free. Good luck man, that was a great read

              I found a place online that will pay by the line and or page (if they publish) and was going to send it to them with the first ending but I re-wrote a couple lines and was trying to get a hold of my high school creative writing teacher to get her feedback before I do. Being OCD I tend to go back over it and second guess myself. I'm glad you liked it and thanks for the info.

              I like to write in rhyme and verse... it tends to not let me wander. lol




                  I like you mastered your fear, but sad you died.
                  "Never turn your back on fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed." - Hunter Thompson
                  T5/6 complete


                    Mombo, thanks...

                    Rook98006, as was said in Braveheart, "Every man dies. Not every man really lives."


                      Originally posted by Scott C4/5 View Post
                      as was said in Braveheart, "Every man dies. Not every man really lives."
                      My all time favorite movie.
                      And great job, Scott.
                      Rollin' since '89. Complete C8


                        Originally posted by Crappler View Post
                        My all time favorite movie.
                        And great job, Scott.
                        Thanks, Crappler...


                          Great work.

                          Proofread carefully to see if you any words out.


                            Originally posted by alan View Post
                            Great work.
                            Thanks Alan...