The Harshest Trick

I strolled beneath a barren wood, feeling maligned, misunderstood. Late night attempts at cloning sheep bore little else but lack of sleep. My research grant had been denied, so I, exhausted, bleary-eyed, set out on foot to clear the mind, to leave unfinished work behind. I heard a scream from up ahead, looked up and saw some steps that led to a small cottage on the hill whence that shriek came, so sharp and shrill. Then, walking through the open door, a feeling I'd been here before soon filled me with a sense of dread, a primal urge to bolt instead. The light had gone from gloam to gloom, the darkness, heavy, in the room. Descending stairs, unknown below, footprints gave off a creepy glow. The tanks I saw gave me the sweats, for there, familiar silhouettes: suspended in that gelatin were newly forming skeletons. Enshrouded in the finest mesh, they grew translucent, living flesh. A figure fiddled with the tank, and as he turned, my heart stopped, sank... The harshest trick for Halloween: for he was I, in ghastly sheen. ---------- for the Halloween Poetry Contest sponsored by Emile Pinet written on 10/25/22