A Soft Knocking ~ the poem

December 31, 2012 at 6:04 pm · Filed under Crazy stuff, Dark Side, Mostly fiction, Poems ·Tagged Charles L. Mashburn, fiction, horror, poetry, story, writer

This poem was originally a rather long short story, which I whittled down to just under 500 words for a contest last year. I came across it again this morning and decided to turn it into a poem. It’s rather long for a poem, but give it a read if you’ve got the time. I think you will find it to be quite entertaining.

A Soft Knocking

 

In my very bones I could feel

The morning dampness

My dark and dreary world

Having steeped in slow rain

Throughout the long and silent night

The lamp flickering on my desk

Cast a warm glow upon my work

But did nothing to ease the chill in the room

 

A faint ringing in the distance

Not something I often heard

A carriage bell

Rushed a chill through my veins

Then a woman’s scream

Sliced the cold morning air

 

I moved quickly to my window

And with trembling hand

Eased  the curtain aside

 

A coffin-like visage approached

The light snap of a whip sounded

The steed… paying it no mind

Continued at a slow trot

Then fought the bit with turn of head

When the driver pulled back on rein and brake

Sliding the coach to a stop

 

I turned away

Knowing with sick dread

The carriage had come for me

Then… wishing not to see

Yet knowing I must

I turned back to the window

 

The driver stared forward

Face hidden by shadow of brim

The stallion looked over its shoulder

Eyes wild and gleaming

Snorting steam from black nostrils

As…

 

The door swung slowly wide

And a slender leg

Clad in white silk stocking

Appeared at the coach door

Then fell to the muddy road

A river of blood flowing

From the severed limb

 

Again, I turned away

An angry fist squeezing my heart

And I knew with instant dread

Never more

Would my pen scratch the page

 

I heard the “Yaw” of the driver

A crack of the knotted whip

The scream of the beaten steed

Piercing the damp air

Like an ice pick

Through a warm beating heart

And then…

 

There came at my door…

A soft knocking

 

My aged eyes watered

As one icy tear trickled

Slowly… down my rugged cheek

 

Not knowing how I’d arrived there

I stood looking at the great door

My mind fighting to stay my hands

As they moved toward the bolt

 

And once again there came…

A soft knocking

 

Of its own accord

The door swung slowly open

And from behind me

A small hand gently pushed

 

I stumbled into the deep blackness

Outside my castle door

Light had fled my world

Tumbling…

I floated through the darkness

Lungs burning as I breathed

The vile substance in which I flew

 

Suddenly…

I knew

With solemn certainty

It was the taste

The smell

The feel…

Of ink

 

I knew, too…

Who it was had come to fetch me

‘Twas all those of whom I had written

In my years at the desk

Those whose lives I had created

Then taken

Oft in brutal fashion

In the dark stories I’d told

 

But the cruelest of my acts

Was the shunning of the one

In white silk stockings

Who wanted naught

From the world

But my un-given love

 

For this sin

I will forever hear

As I tumble through my madness

… a soft knocking

 

Copyright © 2012 C. Mashburn

I’ll be sharing this with dVerse Poets Pub tomorrow afternoon on their Open link Night #77. First one of 2013!

Click on the title to read the condensed short story version —> A Soft Knocking

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