When one sees too much–
He snaps.
🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑
A sliver of light, through a narrowed crack,
Time paused on door’s edge.
Fingers with the knob,
Not daring to turn.
Pit pat,
Pit pat,
Thud.
The heart–
Pounds.
🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑
Silhouette in the gray.
It moves where it should not.
Unbridled words charge,
Under the shaft.
A tinge of red iron in the air.
Spilled.
Secrets.
🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑
A peer.
Too long.
The scene grasps.
Creeps under the skin.
Becomes–
Something different.
🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑
Mind’s shadow grips.
Its hand raised
In the air.
Its eyes gaze–
Large.
Silent.
Still.
Into mine.
🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑
The crack remains.
The door —
Of the room–
In my head–
Can’t shut.
🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑
It’s seen–
Too much.
🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑🔒🗝️🕳️🔑
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Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.
