The Closed Door!

Had it been a nightmare? The Foureyed Poet.

The Foureyed Poet

Was that a knock on the bedroom door

in fact two he was sure

a chill ran through his body instantly

sitting up in bed instinctively

not a believer in spirits or any god

thinking he was a silly old sod!

Staring at his own white-painted door

he placed bare feet on floor

putting dressing gown on feeling cold

moving forward rather bold

in the dim light did the handle turn

the stomach acid began to burn!

This was daft for the first time afraid

wishing in his bed he had stayed

with a deep breath thrust open the door

in the dark a shadow he saw

it vanished with no sound being heard

then noises in the kitchen stirred!

Turning every light on he could reach

there came a high-pitched screech

yet still nothing was at all visible to him

now the mood was getting grim

as he stood shocked  in…

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Published in: on 19/08/2015 at 22:12  Leave a Comment  

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