Challenge Yourself Friday – Secrets and Lies Horror Style


Here is your prompt:
A broken watch, a secret diary, and something unpleasant under the bed.

Do not read me aloud! by Richard Bell

Dusty windows pitted by the carousel of caustic weather
I rode for forty days to find my way to your front door
The house a spectre of its former glory in the jazz years
Had seen the crash of nations and bones washed up on the shores
Screaming iron firebirds had shaken off the shingles
And boards that broke their nail guards wilt like impotent desires
Tumbleweed processions by the gates bear silent witness
To torrents in the winter months and hellish summer fires
My filthy sodden boots in thunderclaps ascend the nine steps
My leather coat is filled with charms and weapons blessed by priests
The key has tainted blackness of the blood of former owners
A mansion won as I’m the only family not deceased
Sundown in this valley is a gun shot to the belly
Nothing with a heartbeat stays within its awful shade
Red and violet sorrow acquiesce to silver death glare
This house that once had supple skin the whipping winds have flayed
My pocket watch I lifted from my father’s drunken corpse
Tells me that in two more hours this pile gives up its scares
Flashlight blasts the ancient fixtures daylight scarce remembers
The chalk lines litter threadbare carpets victims shapes left there
Every room a shrine to former opulence now ransacked
Down into the basement where they spoke to lives gone by
In this place exist the horrors darker still than pitch black
That reach into your soul through fright inside your saucer eyes
The Ouija board and planchette on the dresser burst in blue flame
They travel by some unseen hand and land upon the desk
Inviting curiosity it tells me something secret
Then both fly into shattered spikes to shrieks of frail distress
I check my pocket watch and it had laid its hands on midnight
But seconds slender hand was still in petrified despair
The bold inscription on the back has burned in ‘Mesto Varshe’
The planchette spelled out all revealed when ventured up the stairs
The walls they breathe in phantoms rasp
The flashlight catches monstrous masks
Captured as their flesh had passed –
Climb the sweeping staircase flanked by banisters of ancient oak
Chandeliers are bleeding as they’re shook by angered dead
The master bedroom opened to the sight of apparitions
Joined by hands in evil prayer they circle round the bed
Something wicked came this way and settled like depression
Entered all its secrets in a journal of the fire
I feel its presence looming lurking in the craven recess
The circle sunk into the floor that turned from boards to mire
I holler ‘Mesto Varshe’ and to a caterwaul of madness
A blue flame brought the journal on Ouija from under the bed
It lays the skin bound book into my hands that tremble badly
Inscriptions raise like welts and in my terror its pages fed
All around the walls are scratched with ‘do not read aloud’
At 03:16 tattered pages show secrets of deceased
‘Anto hisp vieto cursh wilesto vargen nust’
The centre of the book cut out to hold my still timepiece
I thrust the watch inside the journal and close with violent slam
Then cast it back under the bed and wish it into hell
And as I flee I turn to see two evil eyes aflame
Inside my mind I’m thanked for giving back to Zamiel
His pocket watch he lost to my great granddad in a card game
It could foretell the hour of death the reaper does require
The ceiling and the walls begin to split and fall around me
As down the stairs I sprint chased by demon eyes in blue fire
I pull my gun from out of my jacket and blast the door to pieces
And launch myself into the winds that pull the house apart
A voice from that place where the darkest spirits choke the ether
Said “My watch will come alive upon the last beat of your heart.”




Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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