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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:35:46 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 97450
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Haunted : Footsteps of the Dead
[time] => 2005-06-09 17:21:10
[hometext] => Just a fun haunted story poem thing. Please comment. (p.s. Im turning 15 on the 14th!!!!!!!! :D lol )
[bodytext] => The wind howling a sad tune Outside is a full moon Dark and grey, all around Footsteps are heard thump, thump, thump Slow and steady like the beat of a drum Coming closer and closer still I look to the left I look to the right I look all around and not a soul is in sight In an empty bedroom. . . Pale moonlight is shining through a broken spider web window Dusty arms of light, entering through the cracked glass, touch the floor, walls, and ceiling, playing games with the darkness Shadows of ghosts appear in the moonlit room Ghoulish and grim Reflected in the crystal doorknob is a figure It reaches out an invisible arm and turns the knob The door creaks open Footsteps are heard An open window at the end of a hallway Light flooding in from a street lamp The glow casts a spell on the darkened silhouette making it pause in mid stride My head turns toward the darkened window of a mysterious mansion Tangled vines reach towards the window climbing it’s way up an old silver trellis I stare, entranced at the window looking deep into the dark depths within I walk as if possessed by the phantom of the night I linger in front of a dark mahogany door with a brass doorknocker The door swings open inward and my arm reaches into the darkness over the threshold Something within gently takes my hand and guides me into the house An umbrella stand and coat rack empty and forlorn Old black and white photographs hanging on the gray walls An unfamiliar tune flowing out of a music box played over and over again tinkling to a stop to be rewound once more Within the walls of the mighty mansion time has stopped The hands of the world have not unfurled the distant memories of the secrets and tales the mansion tells A long rectangular mirror at the end of a long corridor stretching the hallway’s depths The thick layer of dust on the glass distorts the images placed in it’s path The black doors – six in all, the paint chipped and worn Three on each side of the endless chamber The shadows swallow all the color The moonlight shines in through broken windows painting the walls a faint blue steely gray To be continued. . . ~Kortnie~ [comments] => 2 [counter] => 193 [topic] => 43 [informant] => justme03 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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