HE HAS COME FOR ME

HE HAS COME FOR ME

Do my eyes deceive me?
Can this be true?
A creature is stalking me
Through the dark streets.

Eyes black as night,
Cries as soft as the wind,
Sharp claws tapping a sad melody.
It draws closer to me still.

The mansion’s gates yawn open.
My feet leave tracks in the mud,
Handprints where I fall in my haste.
Salty tears splash on the rocks.

The mansion waits in its dark glory
For the innocent and weary.
It sheds its shell like a caterpillar,
But no butterfly does it become.

The creature gains ground,
A stalker in its feline prance.
Whiskers pointed to the wind,
Skulking closer to me.

One last stumble for me
As my knees graze the rocks.
My fingers climb the steps,
Digging deep into the dirt.

I turn one last time.
The dark one stands up,
Reaching its full height.
On two feet it stands tall.

Yellow eyes glisten in the dark,
No whiskers to follow my scent.
White skin for black fur,
Laughter falls from his lips.

He has come for me,
Walking on muscled legs.
Sure and strong is his gait
For no more does he crawl.

“Come to me!” he says.​
“No more games for us to play.”
His hand reaches for mine
As I back away from his touch.

“I refuse to belong to you.”
My voice shakes in despair.
I will not follow him
To the land of beyond.

The house swallows me whole.
A maze of rooms for shelter,
I am hidden inside its walls.
Darkness shields​ me from harm.

THE DEAD GAME

THE DARK STREETS OF TOWN

Altamura (Apulia, Italy) by Dauno Settantatre

Dark are the streets

By which they creep.

Silence is their goal.

Through the town, they go.

Bodies left behind,

Blood-dry we will find.

Church bells are tolling,

And heads are rolling.

Flee from this we must

Before we are dust.

THE DEAD GAME 

PLAYING WITH FIRE

They’re playing with our lives.

Taking whom they want.

When they want.

For their deadly games.

They dare to walk our streets.

Dark shadows of the night.

Enter our homes.

Customers in our stores.

Guests in our hotel.

They hide in plain sight.

Beware of The Dead.

They take no prisoners.

THE DEAD GAME

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Source:weheartit.com

WHO WALKS THE NIGHT?

Who walks the night?
On silent feet.
Down the cobblestone path.
Between the sleeping windows.
Where no one else treads.
Why is he out so late?
Wonders the woman.
Alone at her window.
Fear rippling down her spine.
Has he come for me?
Is my time up?
I must hide.
He's coming closer.
His footsteps have stopped.
Can he see me,
behind my curtains?
Can he sense me?
I do not know.
For the creatures of the night
have special senses.
Special powers.
I hope he hasn't come for me.

THE DEAD GAME

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Nook

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