The Visitor

Once upon a night so bleak, frozen silent laid the creek -- air of death, pushed, swore and swore...as if were fists pounded the frail, wood door; shutters noised, bolting and banging; metal hinges oddly clanging – cupboard glasses adding more tumultuous tang, as they, in vile unison, vibrantly rang… suddenly, through frosted pane I spied, crossing the blanketed plane, a spirit like figure -- it crept upon sod’s snowy cover, in rock’s shadow, paused, more hovered! – of superstition I had little fright...yet, a morbid stench abscessed the night… silence ensued more vociferous than shout; I sat at the table, candlelight flicker -- thoughts wildly racing, quicker—aflicker! of superstition had I little fright… yet, a morbid stench abscessed the night -- Then, the wind, first torment, now breeze, began to whisper...my racing heart slowing to near freeze. ‘This demon you did provoke and invoke” ~ alas, no more it spoke. From hiding again it sprung! Side to side, snow was flung. For my cabin it plowed a path: with haste I shuttered, in awe of this wrath! Thus, moments passed...ones of dismay, proceeded a knocking, some Thing seeking entree: Who is it? (I inquired, door-bolt still fast)~ Hurry, state your stand! What monster has this God forsaken night sired, trembling a peaceful land -- fearless predators a-shrink in lairs -- evil chill permeating the air -- what still-born agonies have you come to bare? To which there was no reply -- Nor further from I. Followed another brief silence, seething with violence. This silence continued but fleeting moment more, ended by fury, the Devil alone could spore: for on my door, it began to pound -- pounded and pounded, such tumult, how it sounded, and bounded from wall to wall, from all to all! “Let me in!” it shouted, with fury, with rage, “I would not be here, if not for your page” -- Let me in, it continued to urge, door shackles weakening with each new surge. Finally came one mighty thrust. Door-bolt springing, flinging as it bust. Left in the doorway midst whirling dust stood a figure, clad in black shroud, puffing, snorting, animally bowed. Of no man had I this depth of fear, nor sense of jeer. But this was not man, in fact, ghoul! Restricted naught, by any flesh-rule. It eyed my every move, as a fiend in stalk or taunt of prey -- thus, I sensed my life, to be at bay. But before I could stir a defense, slur my disdain this grotesque courier of bane had lifted its shroud and mockingly bowed. To my surprise, although bereft of human form, conceived in some ogressly norm...its face...absent of all but the slightest human trace, yet...that face, that face!~ clearly shown...resemblance to my own….