Has End House returned to Oasis?
Our chanting had cast it to sea.
It can’t be back.
We can’t be under attack.
Silence fills the forest.
A cold breeze tickles my arms.
I follow the path through
a thick copse of trees.
The sky darkens.
A shadow looms in the distance.
I enter the clearing.
Seagulls cry and swoop low.
I halt by a deep hole.
The spot where End House had stood.
A hard shove
And I’m falling.
Laughter follows my descent.
I hit rock bottom.
A tunnel stretches before me.
Light at its end.
THE DEAD GAME CONTINUES
PRELUDE TO BOOK II
WHO SITS THERE?
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 coast along with the circling dust.
The walls trickle with blood or maybe rust.
The ghostly form stands up 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.
All the candles go dark.
This was a silly lark.
Time to leave this creepy place.
We must quicken our slow pace.
But since this is a horror story.
We won’t be leaving soon with glory.
The house sits alone.
Night after night.
Ghosts in its walls.
Demons below its floors.
It waits for the night.
When the moon bleeds red.
Nature becomes silent.
And shadows walk tall.
Lights shine through its windows.
Sounds creep up from its basement.
We’ve come to play.
In The Dead of night.
THE DEAD GAME