The Monster and the Ghost

 

“So, what do you think’s waiting on the other side of the door?” Tommy asked.

“I’m sure it’s scary, whatever it is!”  Jason’s voice quivered with fear and excitement.

The older boy looked down at the younger one.  “Think so?  Monsters, maybe?”

“No, no monsters.  Ghosts.”

Tommy squinted.  “Ghosts?”

“Yea, of those boys that went missing a few months ago.  No one ever found them.”

“Could be.” Tommy cocked an eyebrow at Jason.  “You sure you want to open it?  See what’s on the other side? You brave enough?”

Jason hopped from foot to foot.  Hesitating only for a moment, he nodded.

Tommy curled his fingers around the handle. He pulled it up, then down, but it didn’t yield.

Jason sagged his shoulders, and kicked at the door. “Damn it! We’re locked out!”

Tommy shook his head and shrugged.  Releasing the handle, he turned slowly to Jason.  “Doesn’t really matter, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because the monster isn’t on the other side of the door.” From his jacket, he pulled out a long, serrated knife.  “He’s right here.”  Even in the semi-darkness, the blade gleamed.  “And you’re gonna be the ghost.”

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.  © ELIZABETH MICHAUD JOHN.

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Not Even Death

photo credit: photo retrieved from Haunted America Tours

The hand he placed on her shoulder shimmered with an ethereal light, faint and pale.

She turned, startled.  Her eyes widened when she saw him.

“You’re…you’re here?

“You thought those pills would keep us apart?”  He exposed his wrists, revealed the ugly wounds. “Oh, lover, don’t you see? Now we’ve got eternity.”

She screamed.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.  © ELIZABETH MICHAUD JOHN.

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Ghost

What would the Halloween season be like without a ghost story?  Or in this case, a ghost verse

Moan and wail, clank of chain

Smell of death, recall pain

Haunts this hall, brings on fright

Shackled man who lurks this night

Smoke and mist, trick of light

Floats on air, a ghastly sight!

Behind the glass, through the door

Children, hide! And look no more

Obscure face, unknown soul

Wanders past, wanders slow

Sudden chill, horrid gasp

How long shall this terror last?

Rambles through, seeks to find

Passage to another time—

Bloodless spirit forced to dwell

Here on earth, a ghostly shell

Shimmers dark, shimmers light

Brings on fear, shrieks at night

Children, flee! Run and hide

‘Lest your wish too is to die

Beast and fiend, man no more

Soul is lost, love abhors

Anger stirs, hope is lost

Demon creature will accost

Children, please!  Heed this cry

For this is no lullaby

Rage abounds, fury too

Care that he comes not for you—

Moan and wail, clank of chain

Near the end of terror’s reign

Takes a soul, guards it well

Floats them both on down to hell.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.  © ELIZABETH MICHAUD JOHN

Let the Sounds Be a Warning

 

Listen, children, to this night

It bears a warning of great fright

The boom of thunder is fanfare

To night’s terror:  Hark! Beware!

Hear not you the demons stroll?

With menace creep, with menace roam

Lightening cracks—oh children see!

Horrid things will come for thee!

Sounds abound and pierce the dark

Creatures come to leave their mark

Phantoms wail and monsters too

A wolfhound howls—

It honors moon

Tombs do open:

Hear scratch and scrape!

Untold horrors make quick escape

Groans emit from these undead

It brings forth fear

It brings forth dread—

The witch’s cackle is oft heard

And black crows caw

Their sound absurd;

Death is inferred—

Ghouls and goblins swear and hiss

Evil’s night is their sweet bliss

But behold this night song’s end

Do take heed of word I send

The final sound we’ve yet to hear:

A scream of death

A scream of fear

Run, run children! Flee and hide!

Before the sounds do you they find.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © ELIZABETH MICHAUD JOHN

And because I wanted to have some fun, here’s the “video” version of my poem.

It’s poetry in motion.

Sort of.

Mwah hahahahahaha….

Grief of Ghosts

 “The greatest griefs are those we cause ourselves.”  Sophocles (496 B.C. – 406 B.C.)

In the quiet of the graveyard

In the quarter light of moon,

Fresh earth has yet to settle

And descend upon a tomb…

She slips the bonds of earth,

In search for one she missed,

In search for her beloved

And free herself from this abyss;

And another soul does flitter

He wanders gently by,

He’s looking for his child

To whom he’ll sing a lullaby;

And brother was a soldier,

He carries still his gun,

He’s looking for the enemy

But here he finds there’s none;

And the ghostly form of girl,

Wrists still crimson from her wounds,

Who in life did dream of death

But now the darkness will impugn;

And further in the graveyard

Under trees of pine and oak,

Other souls do gather

And wear night as their dark cloak;

They whisper to each other

And the air will catch their grief,

The living hear their cries

As moans and wails in

night’s soft breeze—

They’re looking for their loved ones

They’re looking for their lives

The ones that they believed in

And those they’ve left behind;

And in the quiet of the graveyard

In the quarter light of moon,

They sing a song of sorrow

Of lives gone much too soon.

COPYRIGHT 2012 © ELIZABETH MICHAUD JOHN.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.