Who sits there in the darkness?
No movement in the blackness.
As still as a fox waiting to pounce.
No hint of a ruffle or a flounce.
A soft sigh can be heard in the air.
Are those slithering snakes in her hair?
Shadows float amid the circling dust.
The walls trickle with blood or maybe rust.
The ghostly form stands tall to meet us.
She can be the hostess to greet us.
A deserted house this seems to be.
She hovers over us like a tree.
We stand alone in this bleak hall.
There won’t be dancing at this ball.
The candles flicker and go out.
I want to pull my hair and shout.
Time to leave this creepy place.
We must quicken our slow pace.
But since this is a horror story,
We will not be leaving with glory.
THE DEAD GAME