No Dead Poets Society

Inside a house on Halloween one night I woke, not knowing how its heavy door got shut. I looked around and felt such fright. Blood was on the ceiling, walls and floor! I then recalled a presence I had felt when first I’d gone inside that house of gloom. I now recalled blows to my head I’d felt before I’d passed out in the empty room. Where did the blood come from? Was this a dream? I looked, and now a body I could see. I went to it, then gave a silent scream. It was a corpse that looked a lot like me! The body was smashed up. With shock I gasped. The corpse was no one’s but my very own. At last the meaning of it all I grasped . . . A ghost writer I am and all alone.