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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 rushed out through the 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, and the chill,
    The path was uninviting.

    At long last I had reached 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 yearning for its light.
    Hoping that it would quell my fears,
    And secure me through the night.

    Soon enough I had 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 prospects seemed quite drear.
    For if it failed to strike a flame,
    All hope would disappear.

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

    As I retrieved that last lone match,
    My uneasy hands did shake.
    I took a breath to calm myself;
    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.

    The glass replaced, I set the wick,
    To yield 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.
    So I closed my eyes; and bowed my head,
    As I relaxed in peace, and 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 window pane,
    And for the voice which called to me,
    Was imagined, just the same.

    How foolish now, I began to feel,
    For how I had behaved.
    My common senses were seized away,
    As though they'd been enslaved.

    I stood upright and gazed outside,
    But I could not see the field,
    For my lamps light had caused a glare,
    And instead, the 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 rate did ever race,
    For when it moved the floorboard creaked,
    And a tear rolled down my face.

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

    Behind me stood a heartless fiend,
    As wicked as outright sin.
    I heard its breath and then its voice,
    As it spoke my name again.

    Its voice was as coarse as pumice,
    Its skin was smooth and white,
    Its face was somewhat sunken in,
    With black eyes; dead as night.

    It appeared to have no gender,
    And moved with a cunning style,
    And as it crept up next to me,
    I could see its wicked smile.

    I slowly turned left 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 vast collection"
    "I feed upon fear, and yours is sweet"
    "Like a sugary confection".

    "You'll forever spend eternity"
    "Inside my wicked mind,"
    "For 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 its hunt,
    I knew that I had little time,
    To escape and stay in front.

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

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

    I had to secure a place to fight,
    And a weapon to save my life,
    So to the kitchen, I made my way,
    To find the strongest, 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'd found a knife and gripped it tight;
    This would be 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,
    Or disturbance from the beast,
    But a silence fell upon the house,
    And uncertainty increased.

    Moments ticked by with nary a sound,
    Til I made the realization.
    That 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 spun around to confront the beast,
    And I yelled a roar, most primal.
    My instincts now would 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 serrated claws tore through my shirt,
    And had ripped my chest alike.

    I stabbed again with utter rage,
    This time, with better aim.
    And as it hit, the beast cried out,
    Its eyes were set aflame.

    It struck once 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 retrieve,
    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 the beast now felt the sense of fear;
    A sensation far too strange.

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

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

    It cursed and vowed to take my soul,
    But I knew that it was lying,
    Its words had become mere empty threats,
    And were no longer horrifying.

    I took a breath and swung once more,
    Just 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 quickly fell onto the floor,
    And I gladly watched it die.

    I stood above its gruesome 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 ghastly sight.
    With grisly wounds along my veins,
    I would not survive the night.

    I slid down to the blood soaked floor,
    For I could no longer stand,
    Though pleased that I had slayed the beast,
    My own 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,
    And 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 yet profound.

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

    I wondered where the beast was from,
    And just 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 against an evil beast,
    The way few had done before.

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

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

    My life was gone, as well my cares,
    What was next, was still unclear,
    But I was armed to face it now;
    Absolutely 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; 20 Feb 2021, 12:24 AM.

    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...