Walking the halls of Avonlea, Darkness prevails little light by to see. Eerie shadows crept close hugging the wall, Imagination of ghouls nearly ten feet tall.
Oh, the sinister sounds. Footsteps echo abound, Upon turning to seek no one could be found. Nerves on edge tenseness of brain, Wishing to scream but trying to refrain.
Moans and groans and chains that jingle, Up my spine raced a frightening tingle. One step, then two, a creak of the floor, Terror attacked not knowing what was in store.
I could hear her whispering breath, As she relived her moment of death. The twist of the blade as it struck deep, The river of tears as she began to weep.
A backward spiral catching the staircase just right, Through the air twirling and tumbling in her flight. The crack of her skull as the floor broke her fall, Which ill was the fatal blow that ended it all?
The blood of life now only a pool surrounding a shell, Sightless eyes lifeless grimace, a body now pale. Features froze from agony she was now free, So, it was told, so they say. But was she?
Death comes for her over and over same day, same year, Why do I continue my journey here? My nerves in a jumble as her room I find, As I lay me down to sleep I start to unwind.
But not yet. Sleep does not come for I can never feel. Rising from the bed, looking in the mirror I forget it is real. No reflection, empty cup by the bedside, he stands by the door, I rush passed him screaming, he catches me, I die once more.
© Cynthia Clark