After the last hooligans knock—light’s out—
Halloween has ended for good this night.
Before succumbing to bed, I peer out
Of my windows observing the pitch dark—
Outside is an abyss of primal fear—
The shadows are consuming my whole porch.
Someone can be seen lurking—eyes glowing—
Standing right there as if alive, but dead.
.am I Here
Before I could think, I heard that cold voice
Uttering its guttural sounds in the dark
Outside my window in the great beyond,
Outside my window in the great beyond,
Yet the sound is close, as if from my porch.
Someone—something—standing and haunting there;
A lurker with eyes, red, and standing dead.
After that horrid sight, I screamed in fright
And let out a curse upon the dark night.
.am I Fear
Outside, shadows are starting to shift my
Perception of things—shadows shift the porch.
Someone is smiling an awful green grin—
The fluorescent, jagged teeth of the dead.
After which my heart jumped up to my throat;
I start to fear my life forfeit this night.
Before I can look away—I must see
If I can recognize it in the dark.
.am I Death
Someone I know—I recognize their voice—
Is standing there taunting me as the dead.
After their last words, I have it nailed down!
Oh!—the horror of this shade in the night!—
Before the dawn shall break—Oh, the horror!
I will drop dead here alone in the dark—
Outside the earshot of a living soul—
For that fuck I buried ’s there on my porch.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, October 1, 2026
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: October 1st, 2026 07:23
- Comment from author about the poem: The debut poem of the Darklings collection and the first Interversa, an original poetic form created by Tristan Robert Lange.
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Teddy.15, Paul Bell
- In collections: Darklings.

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Comments9
I bet theres a few under the porches my friend, enjoyed
Norman, I would not be surprised at all. Some porches probably have a full committee of things hiding underneath, waiting for the lights to go out. Glad you enjoyed it. ππ€π»π
I certainly did
The question Tristan is whether the one buried is friend or foe, a real or imagined soul, one once out or within. A lovely start to that month of Halloween
Soren, thank you. I love that you caught that uncertainty. The buried figure is meant to stay a little unstable: memory, guilt, enemy, self, ghost, or some awful blend of all of them knocking after the night should be over. ππ€π»π
My pleasure Tristan
Thereβs a damn nasty Halloween turn here, because the poem keeps shifting the readerβs perception from ordinary shadows and tricks of the dark toward something increasingly personal and genuinely horrifying. The final reveal is the killerβafter all the red eyes, dead voices, and green teeth, discovering that the thing on the porch is the very person he buried gives the whole poem one hell of a satisfying, macabre snap.
Thomas, thank you, brother. I wanted the poem to keep tightening the noose until the haunting stopped being generic and became specific. Once the speaker recognizes what is standing there, the funhouse horror becomes something far more personal. ππ€π»π
Oh itβs that month again. The shops are beginning to display their ghoulish stock, again!
ik, yes...the annual ghoulish takeover has begun. One minute it is ordinary shopping, the next you are being joined by plastic skeletons, foam gravestones, and a pumpkin with deeply suspicious intentions. ππ€π»π
Oh Mr. OβLantern is up to his old tricks again! π
Popeye's in on it too of course, with the green stuff - spinach - and scaring us with glugging sounds! lol.
Orchi, yes, the green stuff gives him away every time. Some ghosts rattle chains, some whisper from the dark, but Popeyeus just grotesquely glugs ominously until everyone flees. lol ππ€π»π
Move over blare witch project here come Tristan π€£ what a spooky read my friend. Loved your ending it's hilarious! πΉ
Teddy, thank you, dear Teddy. If I have managed to shove the Blair Witch a little farther into the woods, then my Halloween duties are off to a fine start. Glad the ending gave you a laugh after the creep. π€£ππ€π»π
Is it that time of the year again when the heavy machine gun comes out.
They keep saying you can't kill a Zombie, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try.
Mind you, could kill them with sugar with the amount of sweeties they get.
Paul, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable seasonal plan. If the undead cannot be stopped, they can at least be slowed down by sugar shock and a sack full of suspiciously chewy candies. That last part is a proper horror survival hack. The undead cannot bite, infect, or eat you if theyβre missing teeth due to sticky chocolate-covered caramel. π€£ππ€π»π
Enough of this now, Tristan, I nearly soiled myself. Yoy're too good at this, such horror, a creeping horror and no let up, no popcorn break. I'm out of here!
Fond regards from under the bed,
Tony.
Tony, this made me laugh. I will take βnearly soiled myselfβ as a five-star Halloween review and alert the dead thing on the porch that it has earned its keep. Fond regards right back. ππ€π»π
Yeh. I'm with Tony (above) here. I have a frozen right shoulder which sends my head and kneck to the riight where they get buffeted by a permant twitch.
Lighten up a little, please Tristan...π
Dave, my apologies for the delay...been a crazy week. I appreciate you braving the porch despite the frozen shoulder and twitchy aftermath. As for lightening up... πππ€π»π
You gotta do your own thing I know, Tristan. It is just that I feel obligated to read your pieces because it seems you always read and respond positively to mine. But I'm sure you will understand that while I admire your work, the energy and dedication you put into it, I cannot involve myself in some of your more esoteric projects if am to sucessfully manage my mental health. Do take care of yourself. ππβΊοΈ
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