Daniel Merriam


I open my eyes to strange creatures.

Why are they in my bedroom?

Their thrill laughter makes my skin crawl.

They wave knives at me.

I need to escape.

I can’t.

I’m tied to my bed.

They move closer.

I close my eyes.

Silence fills the room.

I slit my eyes open.

The room is now empty.

I glance at my chair in the corner.

A red balloon is tied to it.

Oh no.


nature/vintage blog


I step from the restaurant

where there had been light.

Now there is only darkness,

and no stars in sight.


I hear footsteps in the distance.

Dark shadows move and sway.

Steps echo louder in the dark.

I bow my head and pray.


I run to the light.

Then I’m falling down.

My face to the ground.

My world, upside down.


I lift my head.

Black shoes before me.

The lights go out.

Darkness now claims me.







Who sits on my shelf

each night?

Who casts shadows

on my bedroom wall?

I move closer.

I must see what it is.

The head moves.

Its hood falls back.

A doll’s face appears.

A yellow glow

in the darkness.

Red eyes turn to me.

Burning a hot hole

right through me.





I’m having a bad dream,

no, maybe a nightmare,

of a washing machine.


It wakes me up at night.

It rumbles and whispers.

I hope it won’t take flight.


It’s moving and grooving

to a beat of its own,

that is far from soothing.


It’s a horrible sight.

A machine set to hard.

It’s ready for a fight.


I scream into my pillow.

“My clothing is all too clean,”

then I weep like a willow.





Puppet Master 2 (1991)


What do I see 

as I wake from sleep?

A puppet watching me.


It creaks.

It groans.

Its head spins.


It can’t be real.

It’s a wooden puppet.

No one pulls its strings.


It speaks

in a deep voice.

It can’t be alive.


It says,

“Time to play.”

I run to the door.


It can’t be.

It stands before me,

taller than me.



It can’t be.

But it is.

It’s alive.