A Danse Macabre

Along a winding country road one autumn’s day of late, I chanced upon an aged abode, up a hill beyond a gate. The house was old and quiet, not a person 'neath its roof but in a tree close by it perched a bird, somewhat aloof. It cawed and cawed audaciously then quickly flew its roost to stare at me vexatiously as some intruder, I deduced. This large black rook, of imposing size, soon alit upon the fence and shackled me with ominous eyes from which I made no sense . I stared at it quixotically with doubt, and grave concern. Was it something meant symbolically and from it what I might learn? "Tell me kindly," said it, "if you would, why you've stopped by here today? Is it to see what's empty stood long before you found your way?“ Perplexed I asked that brazen bird, "How is it can you speak? In all God’s truth I’ve never heard words coming from some beak.” "I saw this house as I approached evoking thoughts of times long past I do apologize have I encroached, but its aspect drew me fast." The creature stopped momentarily then turned to answer me. "Some things aren't necessarily as they oft appear to be.“ “Passersby may think it empty but it's really not that way, and though many try to tempt me I seldom let them stay." The impetuous crow, still on the post, said with a haughty smile, “Perhaps I'll be a proper host, and let you stay a while?" “But expect strange sounds at twilight, with voices echoing down the halls and later on you just might hear woeful music through the walls." "And perhaps from an upstairs bedroom you’ll see a candle’s flickering beam that makes disjointed shadows loom like gloomy specters in a dream." “And from the wooden balcony that tilts from the second floor, with much unscrupled agony might be screams you can’t ignore.” Then with abysmal imprecations it ranted on in wild discourse. With dismal implications it spoke to me without remorse. Disturbed was I with deep misgiving that gripped intensely for a minute as this was no site for me the living, I left the place and all within it. I stopped, then turned as if to reckon what might that evil bird implore and would it’s piercing eyes still beckon but it had flown back to the door. I watched it flock with several more then transform into a being which stood upright, danced through the door, to create a mystery quite deceiving. Now was I more than less bemused to reason why its bold attack had left my psyche so contused that never once should I come back. With chilling thoughts so undisguised of my soul it might have robbed I thank the Lord I recognized the devil’s wicked danse macabre.   John Henry Gardner © 2017 All Rights Reserved