Now, whenever I pass by our 2nd floor corridor in the house, I imagine seeing a pale girl in a Victorian style dress holding up an axe, by the top of the stairs.

  —Eleonne Moona (from Wattpad)

  1. The Scroll

  I am alone, cut off from all the things

  That used to bring me joy; I am a shell

  Of what I was, a husk of bitter stings

  That shock each beating pulse! This hell

  Of my own mind, of my own making, still

  Provides the burning ember of creation

  Inside this haunted mind. I take this quill

  And dip it in the blood of my damnation

  And write the sentence of my penance here

  Upon this very scroll you’re reading now;

  I know you’re reading this, but do not fear,

  For I’ll be with you to the end somehow,

  Even as day shall bleed to endless night

  That snuffs the flame of courage into fright . . .

  2. The Room

  A thousand worries kept me from the fold

  Of gentle sleep, because it was the time

  When everything that crept commits a crime

  Against the vulnerable, the young and bold,

  Whose plastic minds have conjured up a field

  Of sleepless dreams that swim before their eyes—

  Of monsters harking to their startled cries

  When heedless parents fail to come and shield

  Their sons and daughters from the looming threat;

  But even when they come to comfort them,

  Their presence driving ghouls back in retreat,

  They come back once they’re gone to make us scream:

  I screamed, but still my parents heard me not;

  This room has teeth, and in its jaws I’m caught.

  3. The Screams

  The screams of Hell awoke me from my slumber,

  As something sharp had spiked me through the heart;

  Flinging the sheets, I sat up with a start,

  My mind submerged in worries without number

  Over the lunacies that still encumber

  My waking life with thoughts of cruel despair,

  Because my childhood died upon the air

  On this ungodly night! I still remember

  (By God, I still remember) how their screams

  Have scraped the silence bare, have left the strings

  Of love to rot, have poisoned words, have springs

  Of blood and tears bleed out, have filled my dreams

  With visionary traumas traced with hate:

  Such was my lot, and such is now my fate.

  4. The Monsters

  How can I sleep? A pandemonium

  Of bitter screams and yet more arguments

  Corrupt the sleepless night with monuments

  Of hate and inner pain that leave me numb,

  As if my world has fallen from a crumb

  Of discontent, my prayers mere ornaments!

  What origins, what foul determinants,

  Fester my life with such a horrid outcome?

  I left the bed and crept out past the door,

  Then through the hallway, down the stairs, then halted

  Before the ruckus of my parents' war

  Inside the family room: they both assaulted

  Each other with their words like saber-cuts,

  The floor beneath them splayed with blood and guts.

  5. The Entrapment

  I gasped and faltered in my step, then froze,

  Feeling the goosebumps resurrect my skin

  With horrid premonitions from within,

  As though my body knew these awful throes

  Of sudden revelation might disclose

  My presence to the monsters in their fight:

  The screams have stopped, and so I take my flight

  Through staircase, hallway, bedroom door, and shadows,

  Whereat I slammed the door and propped a chair

  Against the knob, then waited in despair:

  I backed myself against the corner, crying.

  Their prowling footsteps creaked upon the stair,

  Reverberating through the midnight air:

  Now trapped inside my room, I felt like dying.

  6. Their Voices

  Their footsteps creaked upon the staircase, through

  The hallway, getting louder than before,

  And halted on the threshold of my door,

  Where something dark formed underneath and grew

  Across the carpet of my room towards me;

  And so I turned the lamp, and back it shrank,

  Leaving the carpet wet whereon it stank

  Of blood, the stench of which assaults and swords me.

  I vomited the contents of my stomach,

  Whereat my parents said, “Are you all right?”

  And all my nerves then shook in utter fright:

  Besides the sight of blood, besides its haemic *

  Stench, their voices scraped the air in monstrous notes,

  As if the speakers in them were but Goats.

  7. No Escape **

  Their voices scraped the air, and gentle rapping

  Upon the door now turned to hammer blows;

  They said, “Come out, come out, our little sapling!

  Come out, or else we’ll cut off all your toes!”

  I scrambled to my feet, then grabbed a bat

  And broke my window pane, while hammer fists

  Broke through the panels, claws ripped through with splat

  After splat of something bleeding from cut wrists.

  I scrambled through the broken window pane,

  But clawed hands grabbed my ankles, and I screamed:

  Their claws cut through the skin, and all the pain

  I felt filled up the night with cries undreamed

  Of in my nightmares, held in place, then lifted

  Aloft in two firm grasps outside my window;

  So looking up through tears, I saw the shifted

  Faces of my two parents, grinning with no

  Soul in their eyes: they dropped me, and I fell

  Down to my death below me, down to Hell!

  8. My Depression ***

  A hell far worse than Hell itself, a hell

  I’ve carried deep inside my weary brain,

  Now bleeds out through my ears and eyes like rain:

  A thousand hateful words have rung the knell

  Of deep regrets that hang on lips of death;

  A thousand spiteful looks have etched disdain

  On fading looks of cheer that still remain,

  Etched slowly with the passage of each breath.

  If words of love have lifted me to Heaven,

  And words of hate have dragged me down to Hell,

  Such words have carved out suicidal thoughts

  Inside this mind that slowly—slowly—rots:

  So if you think that I was just unwell,

  You saw not, heard not, knew not, never even

  Attempted to believe in

  The demons that have spawned inside my head,

  Because you thought that everything I said

  Was just a made-up thread

  Of lies! Your words of doubt have carved a tomb

  Inside my mind, wherein my thoughts of doom

  Have buried me in gloom.

  9. The Neighborhood

  Before me was the moonlit street at night,

  Stretching to greater distances of shades

  And shadows like the yawning realm of Hades;

  With street lamps flick’ring in and out of sight,

  I gazed once more upon that house of spite,

  Then turned my steps beyond this neighborhood

  That used to be the center of my childhood,

  Where neighbors waved, and I laughed in delight.

  Dear Rudy used to walk his nightly rounds

  Upon these sidewalks ere his life had fled;

  So when I heard his footfalls on the grounds,

  I turned and saw him walking up ahead:

  And so I flew and held his ghostly hand,

  Then walked and walked into the Borderland.

  10. The Borderland

  The way was dark on which we walked,

  As though the starlit canopy of night

  Has faded past the edge of living sight,

  Enclosing us inside a realm where stalked

  The countless footless footfalls of the dead

  And creatures yet unheard and yet unseen

  To ears and eyes unused to such a scene,

  Unknown to all the knowledge in my head,

  And stabbing at my heart with beats of dread.

  Then to my eyes a gleam of ghostly green

  Lit up the starless canopy o’erhead,

  Revealing a projector-lighted screen,

  And there my parents lying on the floor;

  So Rudy spoke his wisdom like a mentor:

  11. His Wisdom ****

  “By making fate our choice, the blocks of our existence

  Well-spent or wasted, we create our road through this,

  A long and winding road of endless cares, a sentence

  Of woe that pledges all and gives to none its bliss.

  When we set down these stones of mortal destiny

  Upon the naked bedrock of our mortal lives,

  Consider ere you act on that uncertainty

  Of endless possibilities that life contrives.

  Because no matter what your good or bad intentions,

  They matter not to Him that holds the deadly blade;

  The question's not how we escape His grim attentions,

  For He'll succeed upon our lives, our dues repaid:

  It's how we take our steps to meet Him on the chase,

  Opposing fate itself when Death breathes in your face.”

  12. The Runaway

  So said the ghost of Rudy as he faded

  Away amidst that spectral green of death,

  For ages passed since he had lost his breath

  And walked his living rounds alone, unaided

  By other men of courage. Here I took

  Those words of wisdom in my hand and chucked

  Them to the skies, then breathed in deep and sucked

  The air into my lungs and, with one look

  Around me, breathed out all the pent-up anguish

  Over my parents’ fall from grace to Hades;

  Now shapes around me followed in the shades

  Of lamplit sidewalks where I used to languish

  With all my friends. And so I picked my feet up

  And ran and ran and ran, trying to speed up!

  13. The Chase

  Running along the lamplit streets devoid

  Of any living footfalls save my own,

  Running past every house towards a void

  I could not see (nor moonlight could have shown),

  I felt the chill of something running with me

  As if the strides of Death himself were there,

  And felt the smooch of Death’s queer lips to kiss me

  As I began to huff and puff the air.

  Yet as I slowed, a-panting clouds of breath,

  I looked behind and saw nobody nigh:

  Only the silence of the dead—of death—

  Was there to greet the ear, and not the eye.

  Behind me were the ghosts of many woes;

  Beyond me lay the promise of more sorrows.

  14. The Alleyway *****

  A movement from the corner of my eye

  Catches me off my guard, and when I peer

  Into an alleyway, the atmosphere

  Around me chills my forearms with a sigh

  Of night wind flowing through my flannel clothes;

  I turn around and spy the empty streets

  Where not a living footfall ever greets

  Me with the taps of someone there. The shadows

  That loom about me creep along the wall,

  Whereon I trace the almost unseen motion

  Of something in the distance, whose emotion

  Resembles that of someone’s beck and call;

  And so I tread my steps with open eyes,

  Alert and wary, on the cusp of fear

  For anything amiss o’er there or here,

  Expecting something underneath these skies.

  15. The Knight

  The world was full of ghosts that night, replete

  With unseen footfalls striding ‘round about me,

  For everywhere I looked upon the street

  Was nothing there (oh, reader, do not doubt me!);

  But on those flagstones up ahead, I halted

  To find my bearings on this lonesome night,

  And found a shadowed figure ‘neath the vaulted

  Passage that blocked my way: it was a Knight

  In bloody armor, sword tip perched upon

  The grouting, pommel cupped in armored gloves,

  And through its visor burning eyes within

  That seemed to gaze out from deep pools of sin;

  So here I stood, when flocks of scattered doves

  Flew overhead, until I saw them gone.

  16. The Follower

  I took a backward step and then another,

  But on my third, that stationary Knight

  Took three steps forward, matching mine together

  With heavy footfalls thumping through the night;

  Then all was silent after that, a mere

  Reverberation through the nighttime static,

  But when I turned and ran away from here,

  I chanced a glance behind me in the frantic

  Moments when all my courage seemed to fade

  Upon the sight of that surreal pursuer

  Gaining upon my heels! Then up ahead:

  Another shambling Knight without a head!

  Was this a figment of an addled viewer?

  Was it my fate to die this way? Afraid?

  17. The Sleep of Fear

  Closing my eyes, I waited for the blows

  To cut me up asunder like a ham,

  Waiting and waiting for th’ expected wham

  Of searing edges through my sweat-soaked clothes;

  I waited for a second more and froze,

  Expecting something horrible to slam me,

  Then opened up my eyes—dear Christ, God damn me,

  I’m still alive, though shaking from my toes

  Unto the hairs arising from my neck!

  All strength within my legs and knees go slack,

  And down upon the cobblestones I go

  And drift away to sleep upon my back,

  A shell-shocked heap of flesh, a shattered wreck

  Of who I was and what I used to know.

  18. The Yellow-Brick Road

  I’ve swooned, and in this swoon, perchance I’ve dreamed

  A nightmare reaching out with withered hands,

  Grasping and pulling at its rusty bands

  Of iron chains restraining it, it seemed;

  But when I woke and oped my eyes, I screamed ******

  And sprinted down a road of yellow brick,

  For there behind me rode a phantom quick

  As death in jangling carriage riding teamed

  Horses that winnowed screams and snorted fire

  And stomped a tune of thunder at my heels!

  I ran and huffed and ran and huffed in dire

  Straits of sheer desperation, till my knees

  Gave out. I slowed, collapsed, until the wheels

  Of that grim carriage slowly ‘gan to ease.

  19. The Grim Reaper ****

  Turning around, I spied the coachmen seated there,

  Wrapped in a shawl and wearing on its face a grinning

  Mask; I just stood there staring as I was beginning

  To fathom its intentions waiting for me here,

  Here in this limbo floating in suspension, where

  A thousand unseen horrors lay in wait, a-pinning

  Me here upon this sordid road and slowly winning

  Over my steps toward its brougham door for fear

  Of what was out there, lurking. Here I stepped inside

  And found a shawl draped over my own shoulders with

  A mask appearing on my face; I wrapped the wide

  Girth of the shawl around me, sat upon the side

  Seat of a bench that faced the back bench, and forthwith

  Found a hooded Reaper sitting there without a scythe!

  20. The Scary Faces

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Ah, one by one, four other seated fiends

  (Two sitting right beside me, and two more

  Beside the Reaper) then appeared like friends

  All headed for a party on the dance floor:

  A withered Shade and Hag sat to my right,

  The Shade with see-through body, head, and face,

  The Hag with glaring eyes and grinning bite

  That chattered with her dentures still in place;

  A smelly Ghoul and grinning Cheshire Cat

  Were sitting by the hooded Reaper’s side,

  Both leering at me where I gulped and sat

  And trembled at their glances on this ride!

  Ah, how I trembled at these glaring monsters,

  While masquerading me played the imposter!

  21. The Mansion ****

  I saw the melancholy house slip into view

  While I accompanied the monsters going there,

  And all around me ghastly passersby did stare

  And laugh at me, a hapless visitor who drew

  His steps along their grim procession! Ah, but how

  Was I to know their teeming thoughts in this parade?

  For here I walked with monsters, walking in charade

  With that Grim Reaper by my side through shade and shadow!

  Now following along towards the looming house

  Atop the hill and through its creaking double doors

  And down the entrance hall and winding corridors,

  I passed beneath the shades and lamplights like a mouse

  About to be ensnared and trapped! Dear God, what horrors

  Lie there beyond those waiting double doors of terror?

  22. The Mask

  The doors then swung into a nightmare filled

  With masquerading monsters! Some were dancers:

  Ghosts, Goblins, Witches, Vamps, and Necromancers;

  And some were drunks: Hags, Ghouls, and Shades have spilled

  The punch they gorged, while drunken Devils swilled

  The absinthe. All were dressed, yet none wore masks:

  Only the Dullahans with helmet-casques

  And hooded Reapers hid their face. All stilled

  Upon the sight of me within their midst,

  Accompanied by my companion Reaper

  Standing beside me, while the others stared;

  The Reaper then took off her hood amidst

  The gasps of shock and awe, while I was scared

  To look when she said, “Ope your eyes, oh Sleeper . . .” ******

  23. The Axe-Girls

  I’ve swooned, and in that swoon, I might have screamed it

  A thousand times on waking up to stairs

  That stretched towards me, making all the hairs

  Upon my neck stand up; I might have dreamed it

  In half-forgotten thoughts, but I esteemed it

  With wide-eyed paranoia at its presence

  Just sitting in that momentary silence;

  I might have, in a lighter humor, deemed it

  A harmless staircase with the lights turned on,

  Yet through its bright enclosure on the landing

  That rose before me as I turned my gaze,

  I saw a pair of little girls there standing

  With axes in their hands and their heads gone:

  I bolted down the hallway in a craze!

  24. Hide and Seek *****

  With beating heart, I scurry like a mouse

  From room to room to hide myself inside

  A dingy closet, while the girls outside

  Were stalking through the hallways of the house;

  With bated breath, I listen to their tread

  Creaking along the floor like that of felines

  Stalking their prey, while I slink through the confines

  Of hanging clothes towards the wall in dread!

  What’s this I feel, as I now wrap my grasp

  Around a hard metallic sphere? A knob?

  And when I grasp and turn it ‘round, a throb

  Of recognition thunders out a gasp

  Of hope, just as their steps approach my room!

  I push the door and pass the threshold floor

  Before they pull aside the closet door . . .

  And find myself outside an open tomb.

  25. The Rat Man ***

  I turned around: the door into the tomb

  Was shut! So when I cast my wayward gaze

  Over the headstones through the graveyard haze,

  I thought I saw a shape move through the gloom

  Between the gravestones; down between these tombs

  Of ancient yore I tread my weary route

  In search of that elusive shape without

  A clue wherein this gloom of glooms

  It went. I threw my gaze from side to side,

  Looking for that fell shape, when something close

  Said in a whisper’s breath, “The mirror lied!”

  I turned around just as the sharpest dose

  Of searing fire erupted through my throat:

  And in my sights there flashed the bloody cutthroat,

  The Rat Man’s awful gloat

  Laughing into my ears. I then beheld

  The crimson glint of his knife’s edge and smelled

  My blood, as it expelled

  The screaming ghost of my blaspheming soul

  Out of my bloody throat onto the scroll

  Of Hell without parole!

  26. The Clowns

  I then awake unto the sound of bells

  Now clanging out the tune of many dirges,

  Rousing my heartbeats through my veins in surges

  Of dread and pain; yet as my blood dispels

  Such poisons from my veins, I quell the yells

  And screams still raging through my ringing ears,

  Till (drip by drip) I cry cathartic tears

  Of sweet relief through fits of laughing spells. . . .

  That is, until more laughter from the dark

  Approaches me: I scramble to my feet

  As something over there begins to greet

  Me with another bout of laughter. Hark!

  Another fit of laughter stirs behind me,

  At which I find two laughers have confined me!

  27. The Harlequin

  I dashed away from those two sordid clowns

  And footed it beyond their sordid laughter,

  Footing it through the woods until their sounds

  Have faded from the night. With threats of slaughter

  Now far behind me, I then trekked my way

  Into the creeping woods and saw a man

  In checkered costume look my way and say,

  “Who are you, stranger? What’s your sordid plan?”

  I said, “I have no sordid plans or fell designs,

  For I have lost my way amid these woods

  And need a place to stay.” I’ve said my lines;

  He said, “I know a place of many goods

  For you to eat and drink.” He bade me follow;

  And so I tailed him through the wooded hollow.

  28. The Bunny Man

  We reached his cabin in the woods, where he

  Invited me into his house and offered

  Some victuals and ready drinks for me;

  I then forgot the horrors that I’ve suffered

  And stepped inside and made myself at home.

  I ate and drank unto my heart’s content,

  While he informed me of the weird and gruesome

  Crimes of a wanted felon: “The extent,”

  He said, “of this man’s crimes are legendary.

  And so, we’ve dubbed this man the Bunny Man,

  For he commits his crimes inside the very

  Costume that gives his epithet, this beast-man:"

  And yet, so long as you stay here with me,

  You’ll be as safe as anyone can be!”

  29. The Pick-Axe **

  I thanked him for his hospitality

  And told him of the horrors I have seen

  During the nightmares of my wayward journey,

  Till I grew tired with talking. Then the scene

  Began to change before my weary eyes,

  For ere I was about to fall asleep,

  My host began to don a queer disguise,

  A bunny suit, a wolf among the sheep!

  I sprang unto my feet, but when I did,

  I felt my legs give out from under me;

  By God, he’s spiked the drink! And so amid

  My struggles to get up, I start to pee

  Myself when I saw him take up a pick

  From off his wall and head for me; he kicked

  Me over on my back and ‘gan to stick

  It through my chest and abdomen, then picked

  My head into a pulp of skull and flesh,

  While through the awful pain, I screamed afresh!

  30. The Axe-Man

  I then awoke, a-screaming out my voice

  Into the godless night, until the hills

  Echoed before me with the phantom trills

  Of fright; yet for a time, the awful noise

  Carried and changed its tune to that of boys’

  Laughter throughout the night; and for a time,

  I then descended down the grassy climb,

  Till something at my back left me to poise

  Myself. I turned around with just one glance

  Up at the moonlit hill and saw a man

  With an axe in his hand! And so I ran

  And screamed, a-cursing out my grave mischance

  To cross another killer’s wayward path

  And dreading yet another painful bloodbath.

  31. The Stalker-Man

  And so I ran, till all my breath was gone,

  And all my strength to keep on running fled,

  And there was something aching in my head;

  I then turned back and spied the field whereon

  Th’ ungodly axe-man’s stalking apparition

  Pursued my running steps, and there he paced

  With Axe in hand: I backed away in haste

  And flew the other way, till my condition

  Began to burn with all the burning in

  My legs, because the threat of that foul ghost

  Kept tailing me, a-stalking me within

  The drumbeats of my heart, until I lost

  My way, my mind collapsed in thoughts of murder

  A-slicing up my astral corpse asunder.

  32. The Carnival

  And so I ran and reached a wayward route

  That led into a town of gloomy folks

  Amidst a carnival of masks and cloaks,

  Wherein I slowed my steps and looked about;

  They all wore masks and cloaks, yet all throughout

  The bustling thoroughfares, they skipped and pranced

  And played their games and yelled and laughed and danced

  As little children often do, no doubt.

  Yet when I stepped into their bustling midst,

  I found myself th’ observed of the observers,

  A child within the company of strangers;

  Then out of nowhere manifested mist,

  And then arose the hint of subtle dangers

  Within the child-like drivel of their murmurs.

  33. Santa Claws

  And then they said, “He knows you’re not asleep;

  He knows your stomach lurches into knots;

  He knows when you’re awake with sinful thoughts;

  He knows when you’re alone, you’d often weep

  Yourself to slumber with the ghosts that lurk and creep

  Within your bedroom just beyond the darkness;

  He knows why you are crying in the stillness

  Beneath your bedsheets as you’re counting sheep . . .”

  Yet as their words continued through the pause

  Of utter stillness in my mind, I closed

  My eyes and opened them: and there he was,

  The fat man dressed in red with sack exposed

  And showing all the bodies he’s disposed

  Of naughty children sliced up with his claws!

  34. The Missing Children *******

  I closed my eyes and screamed, till I grew hoarse

  And wheezed and choked and coughed up wads of phlegm,

  Then looked around me and— . . . My God, what force

  Of devilry had started all this mayhem?

  The corpses of the children, all of them,

  Lay strewn throughout this clearing in the trees,

  And when I looked, I saw each twig and stem

  And branch had been disturbed! But when the breeze

  Picked up, I felt a stab of sharp unease

  As something overtook my sense of dread

  And flooded me with fear. By slow degrees

  Of disbelief, I saw these children dead

  Arise upon their feet! And yet thereafter,

  I joined my long lost peers in sullen laughter!

  35. The Night Parade

  I laughed a ghoulish laugh with them, until

  I had my fill of laughter. Then I greeted

  These undead boys and girls whose lives have treated

  Them with the foul mistrust of those who kill

  Their sense of self and strength. Adults instill

  The fear of God in everything, repeated

  A million times, until we lie defeated

  Upon a stage adults have built to grill

  Our minds and hearts with all the fears they have,

  Dragging us down with lies of love and care;

  But in this group of children lost, we save

  Ourselves with friendship through the cross we bear:

  Indeed, we might be lost, we may have strayed,

  But with each other, we’re the Night Parade.

  36. The Lost Children ********

  

  Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!

  —Bram Stoker,

  Dracula, Chapter II: Johnathan Harker’s Journal—continued

  I. The Woods at Night

  We trekked on through the woods beneath the moonlit

  Darkness of night, pretending we were soldiers

  Marching along in pairs; we stopped to sit

  And rest ourselves on fallen logs and boulders,

  While two of us kept watch just yards ahead;

  And while I rested thus, I rubbed my shoulders

  And abdomen and chest and neck and head,

  Whereon I had sustained the lethal blows

  Of pick-axes and knives: the pain and bloodshed

  Still set my nerves a-tingling ‘neath my clothes,

  Still caused my heart to thump and hands to shake

  Upon the very thought! But then arose

  The howl of wolves that made my heart to quake:

  And all at once, my nerves began to break!

  II. The Mad Dash

  Out of the darkness rose a thousand howls

  Echoing through the woods and sending us

  Running amidst the fray of hooting owls

  And panic-stricken yells! So tenuous

  Was our escape through all these wooded shades

  And shadows in our path, we ‘gan to cuss

  And swear our stumbling way into the glades

  Without our knowing, till we stopped, dead tired

  Enough to drop into the realm of Hades.

  Yet just before we, one by one, expired

  Upon our feet, we looked and saw a bridge

  Of astral sighs appear, its shape transpired

  Across a yawning gulf along the drawbridge

  Spanning a ghastly length from ridge to ridge.

  III. The Bridge of Sighs

  The hoots and howls had stopped, and all was still

  And silent in the air, as if the world

  Around us stood at full attention, till

  We moved our steps across the Underworld;

  And on the sighing breeze, we heard the voices

  Of our own yelling parents that have hurled

  A thousand accusations that our choices

  Were never ours to make: we’re just too young

  To understand that all our dreams of choice is

  A false impression, just the lying tongue

  Of countless promises to keep our eyes

  From getting wet when life is full of dung!

  So here we tread through broken dreams and lies,

  Contracted to the sounds of our own sighs.

  IV. The Confrontation

  Then up ahead, we found these evil tyrants

  Approaching us with claws and teeth, full-bared

  Against our passage through, because our parents

  Just want to keep us on probation, scared

  Of what they’d do; they’ve laid out punishments

  To keep us in control, and if we’ve dared

  To make a stand and raise our voice, th’ events

  That would transpire would make us lose our nerve

  And drown us in the lake of discontents.

  Yet through it all, we’ve kept up our reserve

  Of courage for the prospect of our plight,

  Ready to take the scoldings we deserve,

  Ready to stand our ground with all our might,

  And ready to endure the dragon fight!

  V. The Revelation

  Yet in a war of words, we’re far outmatched

  In skill to keep our heads above the water,

  Because they’re wiser. We’re just newly hatched

  And soft against the flood of verbal slaughter

  Attacking us in waves of reprimands,

  For what we say about ourselves won’t matter;

  We’re kids, and we must follow their demands,

  No matter how demeaning they may be,

  For we’re just kids, and we’re on shifting sands;

  They think that we can’t understand or see

  The points they make, yet we cannot avoid

  The truth we see inside their eyes, for we

  Perceive that they were children once, destroyed

  And sunk into the silence of the Void.

  37. The Void *********

  There’s something you should know about adults:

  They are but children lost within the void

  Of circumstances far from their control;

  They’re doomed to live a life of harsh results

  That beat them down with things they can’t avoid;

  They’re doomed to struggle to maintain their worth

  When COVID-19’s cut them from the payroll

  And added to the stress of daily insults,

  When deaths of loved ones make them paranoid

  Over their health of body, mind, and soul;

  They’re doomed to lose their reasons for their mirth

  When they have witnessed their most cherished dreams

  Broken upon the grounds of widespread dearth

  Amidst the wailing silence of their screams.

  38. The Awakening

  I screamed myself awake upon my bed,

  And there I lay a-breathing fast and heavy,

  My wayward thoughts now scattered in a bevy

  Of honking geese now flying south ahead

  Of morning’s glorious light. The blood I’ve shed

  So many times throughout this escapade

  Has left me cold and clammy in the shade

  Of autumn’s sunrise. All the pangs of dread

  I’ve faced has left me with the subtle trace

  Of apprehension on my nerves, my heart

  Still beating out the drum-like thumps that race

  With all the fury of a sudden start,

  But even this subsided once I looked

  Around me with no thoughts of getting spooked.

  39. The End

  Then through the door into my bedroom came

  My parents calling out to me with fear

  Inside their eyes, and to my bitter shame,

  I cried and cried, because they’re over here;

  I heard their voices (soft and comforting)

  Caress my ears with words so full of cares,

  Soothing my mind of every ghastly thing

  That filled and thrilled me with the stuff of nightmares,

  Banishing all the dread of last night’s dream

  Into the void of calm forgetfulness,

  Soothing the ghost of one forgotten scream

  With all the love and warmth of sweet redress.

  So goes the cycle of my life this way,

  As fearful night gives way to hopeful day.

  FINISH