Through night's still air, bones shriek,

Skeletal shadows are cast.

A prickling sense, silent dread descends.

All-seeing eyes watch from the dark.

I walk on papery petals,

Their decay's sweet scent, thick in the air.

A dark maw of raised ground appears, 

Its inscription blurred to mystery.

The blackness shifts in misty breath,

My observer's presence, I believe.

Black roses stretch distorted,

Thorny arms reaching, grasping for me.

Cold lingers on the breeze,

Sent by spirits through the trees.

The earth hums beneath each step

A low, dread vibration.

Something waits, just beyond the edge.

Are they behind? Are they ahead?

Primal fear washes over me

And I sprint up the hill, to my friend, the gravedigger.

 

Editor: Rob J Mann