Robin Brown Poet Free verse

Rumple Stein's: Shadows in the Whispering Woods

The children gathered around
the crackling fireplace as
Rumple Stein opened his
heavy, leather- bound book.
His voice dropped to a low,
raspy whisper that made the
shadows on the wall seem to 
stretch and dance.
"Deep within the Whispering 
Woods," he began, "the old
witches brew potions made 
of forgotten nightmares."
He leaned forward, his eyes 
gleaming in the firelight as
the wind howled outside the 
window.
"They command slimy green
goblins that creep into 
bedrooms to steal the
laughter of sleeping boys
and girls."
A floorboard creaked in the
hallway, making the children 
jump and clutch their 
blankets tight. 
"But the worst myth of all,"
Rumple Stein hissed, "is the 
faceless monster that hides
right under your bed."
He pointed a long, crooked 
finger at the youngest boy,
whose eyes were wide with
fright.
"It waits until the room goes
completely black, listening to 
the sound of your heartbeat."
With a sudden, loud SLAM of
his book, he smiled and 
whispered, "Now, blow out
the candle and go to sleep."

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