"May I ask you a question?" There was no reply
The hinges had squeaked as I pushed the door wide
And inside sat a woman, with rocking chair worn
Alone, so she seemed, once inside of her door
"The door was unlocked so I let myself in."
Again, no reply, though I did see her grin
"We've been waiting," she spoke as she started to rock,
"it's terribly rude to come in and not knock."
"Forgive me," I mocked, "but the storm forced my hand.
I've been traveling you see, in this oft awkward land.
The rain came on quickly, my horses need rest.
I spoke of a question, the question is this..."
But the old lady smiled as she held out her palm,
"Calm yourself child, you've been out for too long.
You would ask for a night in this house you have found?
Understandably so, for we're miles from town."
"Thank you," I smiled, "for the one night I ask.
I'll take leave in the morn and be off to my task."
"Your task," she said, frowning, "has only begun.
This is more than a house you have stumbled upon.
This is Hell, just for you! I can see you're confused.
But you needn't be scared, for you've nothing to lose.
See, you died in the storm though you think you did not.
And it's my purpose now to be sure that you rot."
As the old woman spoke, I felt sure of her words
As if what she said had been practiced, rehearsed
"How am I dead if we both see I'm here?"
Then she told me, "I'm dead, if that helps still your fear."
So I started to laugh (she was obviously crazed),
"There is no way in hell this is true, what you say!"
"But it is and I'll show you; your doubts will be curbed.
This IS your hell John, and it's one you deserve."
A change came upon her, though hard to describe
And instead of one being, I was looking at five
In each of their eyes were reflections the same
I was looking at dead men and I was to blame
I remembered no guilt, I had felt no remorse
When a bullet had silenced them each in due course
When I reached for my pistol but found I had none
I realized that each of them still had a gun
They loaded them slowly while chanting in time,
"You took each their life and you'll pay for your crime."
In my horror I ran though I found not the door
Five explosions rang out and I fell to the floor
As I drew my last breath, I could swear I felt rain
As if I were outside, in absence of pain
But I was and I had been; the rain in my boots
If not for the horses was certainly proof
In the distance a house where we might get some rest
Though it's miles from town and decrepit, at best
As I closed on the house where it seemed I had been
I ignored the nostalgia and let myself in.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 9:11 AM UTC
"May I ask you a question?" There was no reply
The hinges had squeaked as I pushed the door wide
And inside sat a woman, with rocking chair worn
Alone, so she seemed, once inside of her door
"The door was unlocked so I let myself in."
Again, no reply, though I did see her grin
"We've been waiting," she spoke as she started to rock,
"it's terribly rude to come in and not knock."
"Forgive me," I mocked, "but the storm forced my hand.
I've been traveling you see, in this oft awkward land.
The rain came on quickly, my horses need rest.
I spoke of a question, the question is this..."
But the old lady smiled as she held out her palm,
"Calm yourself child, you've been out for too long.
You would ask for a night in this house you have found?
Understandably so, for we're miles from town."
"Thank you," I smiled, "for the one night I ask.
I'll take leave in the morn and be off to my task."
"Your task," she said, frowning, "has only begun.
This is more than a house you have stumbled upon.
This is Hell, just for you! I can see you're confused.
But you needn't be scared, for you've nothing to lose.
See, you died in the storm though you think you did not.
And it's my purpose now to be sure that you rot."
As the old woman spoke, I felt sure of her words
As if what she said had been practiced, rehearsed
"How am I dead if we both see I'm here?"
Then she told me, "I'm dead, if that helps still your fear."
So I started to laugh (she was obviously crazed),
"There is no way in hell this is true, what you say!"
"But it is and I'll show you; your doubts will be curbed.
This IS your hell John, and it's one you deserve."
A change came upon her, though hard to describe
And instead of one being, I was looking at five
In each of their eyes were reflections the same
I was looking at dead men and I was to blame
I remembered no guilt, I had felt no remorse
When a bullet had silenced them each in due course
When I reached for my pistol but found I had none
I realized that each of them still had a gun
They loaded them slowly while chanting in time,
"You took each their life and you'll pay for your crime."
In my horror I ran though I found not the door
Five explosions rang out and I fell to the floor
As I drew my last breath, I could swear I felt rain
As if I were outside, in absence of pain
But I was and I had been; the rain in my boots
If not for the horses was certainly proof
In the distance a house where we might get some rest
Though it's miles from town and decrepit, at best
As I closed on the house where it seemed I had been
I ignored the nostalgia and let myself in.
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