A lonesome song
Moving gently along the steps,the wall eyes the door opening its shadow slant eyed on its chest. Behind, through the peeping keyhole, darkness beckons, spooling loose into the unknowable other side, the seductive side, silent. The steps end where the door rises from almost the floor, ascending almost to the ceiling, & the wall sees shadows cavort in the line between darkness & light.
There are things behind the door, silent things that move, pause at the door, ears to the keyhole peeping into light, & sometimes it seems the doorknob would turn, squeal into the deaf steps or it is a trick of light, a magical device in the hands of a master. The slant eyed shadow of the door stretches into a sharp edged blade, a hand holds it aloft, it strikes twice, the height of dread stilling cobwebs straining in the barest whisper of breath.
The single flame, a cheap wax encrusted wick dies & darkness drunk with victory turns the knob, climbs the stairs to the top & where it thought to find light, it was the blackest night & a sea shushing the shore, the wind trembling near the edge of a bayonet & a man untying his neck from a tree, his feet digging his toes like seeds into earth & malice sitting near, picking bones clean from a war with reasons now dead.
Darkness shrieked with fear & dust rose from its lips, fear paraded dressed in petals blood red like old kisses falling from the empty sky,weary lips, another phantom, a fallacy stranger than concrete combed with rakes hiding shrubbery planted with ashes & teeth, hair & purples skin. Death had gathered the air & the wreath could not breathe.
A viola played its lonesome song & the man recently undead swayed growing taller & eternal, branches as pale as rusting armour greeting the gibbering horror that had escaped the other side, the silent unknowable other side.
📷: found this on twitter. It is not owned by me.
©OSAHON, 2020.