Snap. Crack.
A creaking in the floor
As I shuffle my way slowly
Towards the sound behind the door
.
My hairs stand up on end
And my toes begin to curl
... I see an old lady
Murmuring, "Knit one, pearl"
.
Thunder cracks
Lightning highlights her face
"Come, my child," she says
And motions to an empty space
.
Her long fingers extend
Shaking in the darkened room
I look around quickly
Searching for her broom
.
I hear a high-pitched cry
Followed by a low mournful moan
She gets up from her chair
Her wrath is yet to be shown
.
She inches closer to me
I begin to tremble with fear
She reaches out to touch me
If I scream, will anyone hear?
.
"My child, let me show you,"
She takes me by the hand
Over to the corner we go
And together we stand
.
Now, I cannot tell you what I saw
The truth is, I do not remember
All I know is that it was summer
Then I woke up in November
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©ElizabellaJones
