“A Soft Knocking” was originally a rather long short story, which I whittled down to just under 500 words for a contest a few years back. Every time I come across it, I can’t resist toying with it, and on one of those occasions I re-wrote it in poem form. It’s rather long for a poem but give it a read if you’ve got the time. I think you will find it 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
A carriage bell
Not something I often heard
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 whip 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 flowed 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
Then…
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 tumbled into the deep blackness outside my castle door
Light had fled my world
Tumbling… 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 ungiven love
For this sin
I will forever hear
As I tumble through my madness
… a soft knocking
Copyright © 2012 C. Mashburn