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Nightwalker (Poem)

March 1, 2018

Alone, a sole figure

lingering in the blackness. Endlessly journeying

nowhere. Followed into the night,

a gust; a whistle building to a howl.

There is a rustling from deep within,

down in the undergrowth. Fingernails

clawing at the dirt trying to pull their way out.

Collapsed onto my knees, tearing at the soil

never reaching below the surface.

Dragged away, arms outstretched,

blustered along the path.

The wind, stalking closely, running its fingers

over the back of my neck. Exposed

to the icy grasp tickling, prickling,

scratching, shredding. A puppet master clasping

at my limbs, guiding me

through the trees to the edge of the forest.

The cutting breeze, glacial and sharp,

sends shockwaves through me

like a bat screeching out from the blackness.

All tilted, twisted, askew

the barn perches atop the hill.

It lies abandoned, beckoning.

With a dull creak, the door swings open.

Silence descends. A concrete blanket

sealing in the cold air. Deep and dark,

devoid of life but for a spider

hidden in the shadows.

The web waving in the stillness.

Patient. Waiting. Willing

its next victim

to fall. Its prey wound up

in a million miniscule strands

entangled for all to see. 

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