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Aug 2014
On this, My most darkened hour,I wait for whatever is creeping.
I dare not drift, for it will catch me for sure if I am sleeping.
The single candle flickers on, and off again, Twitching under the somber ceiling, and I hear it once again;Slowly, surely creeping!

Why? Why is time passing so slowly?! Where is the coming morning?
The wind outside is howling, lamenting premature my death for sure
While the rain outside is pouring! Outside the room the floorboards creak,
While inside, windows leak as if blood were running to the flooring!
And to the ghostly chorus adds some hell-bent creature clinkety-clinking its ungodly mooring!

The high-backed chair is giving no support, and to myself I gain no rapport
To bargain for my own thoughtless soul! Outside, I still hear it creeping
And it brings my person to mindless weeping at the thought of it reaping my god-fearing being as it's goal!

****** comes! It's closer stealing! Now it's at my door! There's nowhere to run And the wooden gate starts to creaking! Is that what I think! Good God Yes! Parched bone from behind is peeking, and with it I set to screaming!

Yes! This, is my most darkened hour! I come face to face with what is creeping! My soul blackens as this horror twisted from the depths of hell comes reaching, Flame red eyes and un-naturally twisted limbs for soul-reaping!Chains all around, deadened smell as it grabs for me, clinkety-clinking! My screams grew as I saw in full view what had been so slowly, surely creeping!
For the Pumpkin King!
Written by
Elijah Corbeau  New Rochelle, NY
(New Rochelle, NY)   
643
   Kaye Berry
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