Gazing into the dismal moon,
I hear violent sounds,
murderous sounds.

Leaves are crawling, dead
in the breeze
like zombies.

The dark earth below
clutches my shoes,
with black, muddy fangs.

The trees are singing
a fright-filled number.
Logs are making fists.

The forest is alive.
I am in the heart
of every sort of unknown.

Looming and lingering in the night,
these strangers breath
goosebumps down my neck.

Brightness shoots out of the flashlight,
shadows instantly disappear.
I cannot see anything.
Still unknown.