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Neill Bird Poem
I am walking through the dark tunnel below the old, supposedly haunted house. My God,
is it ever nerve wracking. The pungent smell of must permeates my nasal cavity. I can't
see anything due to the blackness, the evil, piercing black. Even my own hand, only an
inch or so from my face, is unseen, shrouded in darkness.
I begin hearing a strange rustling sound behind me. I shrug it off. Again I hear it,
this time followed by whispers, sounds of talking, and even laughter.
"It's only my imagination," I say. Slowly the sounds become louder, and I turn just
in time to see the blood red eyes staring at me through the black.
Copyright © Neill Bird | Year Posted 2008
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Details |
Neill Bird Poem
HE walked slowly down the twisting path. It was dark out, he could barely see in front
of himself. His flashlight had died a few moments earlier. Had he not been so far already,
he would have turned back.
He could hear the night animals make noise, it was mating season after all. With every
step, he felt as if he was being followed. Uneasily, he turned his head back, peering
through the corner of his eye. He saw nothing. HE turned his head back, but did not
notice the large tree branch on the pathway. He stumbled, but didn't fall. His heart was
pounding like never before. A few moments later, he saw a glowing light from off in the
distance, his house light. He smiled, and quickened his pace, for now he was safe; now he
was home.
Copyright © Neill Bird | Year Posted 2008
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