The autumn leaves fell gently to the ground.
Covering the body like a blanket.
It lay undisturbed that way.
Sometimes the eyes would flicker.
Sensing the surroundings.
Waiting.
The children gathered for the annual Halloween party in the woods.
Mrs Banks gathered them round for the spooky story.
The evil Thing in the woods.
Legend has it she was explaining.
The eyes began to flicker.
Sensing new life.
Mrs Banks could see the children were really getting into the story.
Their little eyes were transfixed on her.
Transfixed on the thing behind her.
Mrs Banks never finished the story.
The children tried to explain.
The story about the Thing.
In the woods.
They never found Mrs Banks.
Not even a trace of her.
It was like she never existed.
The book lay on the ground.
Now and again.
When the wind blew.
The pages would make that flickering sound.
Always stopping at.
Legend has it.
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Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 24th, 2025 04:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: peto, Tristan Robert Lange, Friendship
Offline)
Comments5
Tis the season for spooky stories. A nice one for Halloween Paul. Well done
It sure is.
Spooky
Gave me a chill
Great writing
My job is done. lol
Good write Paraclete, erm, Paul. lol. Bit of French there from me - well, Greek really. I know about 3 words of Greek, I reckon, so I'm fluent in it. lol.
Paul, this hit perfectly…the quiet build, the flicker, the way the story eats its own storyteller. Feels like campfire myth turned nightmare. Loved it. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Well said, Paul. Your poem serves to explore the power of storytelling and the thin line between reality and legend, as well as the inherent fears that accompany tales of the unknown. It illustrates how stories can evoke real emotions and consequences, blurring the lines between fiction and reality.
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