Sleep Tight - Volume 1

2. The Dancing Dead (a Poem)

On the chilly October night, the time had come for me to rest my head. But I was unsettled and disturbed and I was no longer needing my bed.

Some fresh air from the window should do the trick,  I let the wind cool my body and blow through my hair. But off in the distance I heard music, far away but it traveled through the air.

After getting dressed I stepped outside and moved to the graveyard where the air was still. There was no sign of life but the music was louder, it came from the open crypt that was at the bottom of the hill.

My feet took me down inside the freezing stairs that were made from stone. The lights, the sounds and the music told me that I wasn't alone.

The suites and dresses hung from their bones, they smoked and drank. They were having a party but these were corpses and their fixed smiles made my stomach feel rank.

I was handed a drink and told to join in, it was a waiter who's head was completely absent of skin.

The band played on and the music this night was swing, a corpse took to the stage and began to sing.

I turned to leave but was stopped at the door, too large skeletons stopped me and my feet were glued to the floor.

The barman laughed 'where do you think you are going? Back to bed? ' everyone laughed along 'you're not going anywhere son, you're one of the dancing dead'

He handed me another drink and told me I was home, I took a drink only to see my hand was made of bone.