wind whips shutters bang
old paint not already chipped off chipped off now
trees wheeze leafs fall branches break
into ghastly twisted disfigured shapes
laying on brown almost dead october grass covering the dead
howls and moans from seemingly another dimension
creaks and squeaks
check the phone line—it’s still working just in case
I hear a crash on the roof
begrudgingly open the door to look
let the full moon sneak inside
graveyard across the street
eerie glow gate left unlocked
shadows moving between tombstones
I run inside—close the door scared stiff now
I freeze in my ice cube shoes
is that footsteps I hear on the wooden front porch
a slow shuffle-step
why isn’t the porch light working!?!?
I hear a knock on the front door
I wake up in a cold sweat
all is quiet on the western front
it was all a nightmare—so real so real
it’s 3am but now I can relax
it’s all over—and then
the phone suddenly rings
who could it be now?
