DON1 - THE GHOST OF BARDSEA

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by Don1

No signs of any usual guests

 

The huntsman’s chicken burnt back to a shell

 

The Front of House is unrecognisable

 

How long dead, who can tell.

 

The sticky carpet grips my shoeless feet

 

Fly paper catches my hair

 

The maggots squirm in and around

 

About the dead rat in the snare.

 

No one alive to take my case

 

The hop’s bell deadened by the dust

 

The guest book opened at a blank page

 

The lounge chairs sprung and burst.

 

My usual room, I guess awaits me

 

Up the dark and webby stairs

 

I make my way so slowly

 

On my neck and arms, standing hairs.

 

The deep long moan confronts me and

 

I’m frozen on the step

 

Not sure if it’s behind me

 

Or if it’s dead ahead.

 

An age passes and I move again

 

Disturbed grime stinging my eyes

 

My mouth as dry as long dead bone

 

My ears tune in to hellish cries.

 

Unable to change its outcome

 

Every night I make my way

 

Forced into hellish haunting

 

They can’t sense me in the day! 

© Don1 2011

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