Wednesday, August 12, 2015

OUR GAMES HAVE BEGUN --- THE DEAD GAME PART 8



The night is here.
Waves are lapping.
Dark blue ink creeping to shore.
Will I weather this storm?
Stand strong like the lone tree?

Flapping sounds fill the air.
Black spots cover the night sky.
Have they come for me?
For the town?

Waves hit me in the face.
The sand pulls me deeper.
The tree begins to bend.
I must go.

Shrieks echo in the wind.
Black feathers fly in the humid air.
Beaks pointing downward.
I must hide.

The trees call to me.
I will go to them.
They will hide me.
I must run faster.

Almost there.
A gazebo in the fog.
A noose hanging.
A body flapping in the wind.
The park can't offer me safety.
Nowhere can.

THE DEAD GAME