Witching Hour
Awakened, in the dead of night
Seized by a feeling of fright
I struggle to catch my breath
My heart pounding in my chest
Surely my thoughts are disillusioned
Glimpsing a shadow translucent
I say to myself with nervous snicker
The drowsy mind is a trickster
Over my head, I pull the blanket
Suddenly something grabs my ankle
Upright I sit in utter horror
Praying I live to see tomorrow
The sounds of scratching echoes
A screeching laugh bellows
The stench of rotting flesh lingers
Down my arm moves icy fingers
Have mercy on my worthless soul
The clock chimes it's immortal toll
The time of hour, I could foresee
Every night at a quarter past three.
Copyright © Darlene Smith | Year Posted 2018
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