Wooden phalanges scratch,
skeletal sounds upon glass,
bark, the color of dried blood,
flaking and falling to the ground.

Distorted gold green moonlight shines,
through warped and broken windows,
creating an unearthly crawling pool,
slowly oozing across splintered boards.

A howling wolf wind raises hairs,
pure dread, as it batters never-ending,
threatening to knock down rotted walls
and beats through barely locked doors.

With a final lunge, the door collapses,
a cloud of dust browns out the night,
cloaked and fast, a faceless body dashes in
a scarecrow lands next to me, as I scream.

An ear-splitting peal of thunder,
follows a lightning strike
the smell of ozone
as the storm passes.