Hooded Chair
Once crafted by a French,
It was imbued with a curse,
On a equinox midnight,
Agent of Death on its way came to
rest,
upon the 13th hooded chair it sat,
and left some of its magic when it
left,
Abrupt when the owner stole a
glance,
He mistook the figure for a burglar,
And went swiftly to the chair to
inspect,
Finding nothing to be damaged he
test,
by sitting on that cursed hooded
chair,
Deadly silent was filling in the air,
His mood changed dramatically,
A sense of foreboding doom across
his face!
He knew his time on earth was up,
Just before he left the hooded chair
alone,
He placed his tools upon its seat
pad,
That was a Mark of one resigned,
Never to ply his craft again.
A note he left to his loving wife
written,
LET NOONE SIT ON THIS DAMM
CHAIR!
For i have seen death rest and
placed his
hand!
No mortal will live a fortnight,
Should his body lay upon it to relax,
He died the following week,
A crate of snakes fell beside him,
The cause of his death was poison
from snake bite.
His widow left everything behind,
Soon another tragic tale would
began.
to be continued. . .
Poet Destroyer A
Contest
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Copyright © Danesh Morgan | Year Posted 2013
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