In the Dead of Night
By the light of day,
Near the edge of night.
I heard whispered tales,
Of an ethereal sight.
With my muddled vision,
By now spirited head.
Bound for the graveyard,
To walk among the dead.
The air had been cooled,
By an early winter frost.
So I mustered my courage,
Then the threshold I crossed.
The silence was deafening,
As I trod between mounds.
Clouds of smoke neared,
That trembled the ground.
My heart began pounding,
At a steady rapid pace.
An icy blast of wind,
Had frozen my face.
My feet grew too heavy,
As the clock slowed down.
Then a woman appeared,
In a harlequin gown.
With dark sunken eyes,
Looking sad and gloomy.
Then reached for my hand,
Sending chills right through me.
She then cast a vision,
As I blankly stared.
Of her untimely death,
By the many who shared.
Was battered and beaten,
By the ravaging horde.
Her limbs were dismembered,
With sharp axe and sword.
Buried neath the ground,
In an unmarked grave.
With no chance to escape,
Just an eternal slave.
Now destined to walk,
This cold path alone.
With rustling of gown,
And crackling of bone.
Her whispers grew louder,
Which sobered my binge.
And asked for my help,
To plot her revenge.
Crippled by my fear,
Humbled by my shame,
I choked out a question;
And plead for her name.
Her face then softened,
And became quite clear.
This past maiden beauty,
Released a single tear.
She nodded her head,
Loudly crying...Mary Drew!
Then turned her back,
And away she flew.
By stating her name,
As she smiled at me.
Was no longer unknown,
Thus her spirit was free.
Now lost in the pitch,
I stumbled to my car.
Slammed it into gear,
And sped for the bar.
The tale of Mary Drew,
Still haunts my dreams.
Each time it recurs,
I'm awakened with screams.
Copyright © Randy Freie | Year Posted 2022
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