Three poems on darkness and death

A guest post by Jayson J Crady

The Howling Darkness Amongst Us

The howling winds outside his window keep him from falling asleep, fearing that doing so would invite an evil entity to enter his room and take his soul as he sleeps. Not even praying his soul to keep satisfy the innate paranoia that he feels as he tries to come up with ways to stay awake.

Looking upon his book shelf is a book of haunting legends that have roamed around the area, whose name is of little importance. Coming upon the legend of the Widow Baxter, he becomes intrigued and starts to read about the widow’s plunge from the towers above the oceans. Wondering to himself what would drive someone to want to end their life, he closes the book and puts it on his night stand.

He hears the winds outside getting stronger and knock against the window to his room. As he tries to convince himself that it’s just the wind and not someone trying to break into his room, he feels his eye lids start to become heavy. As this happens, he reaches over for the coffee cup on the night stand and takes another gulp of it.. to counteract the effects of sleep.

As he lies in bed, he feels the caffeine take effect and he decides to get up to go for a walk. Figuring it will help him stay awake, he looks for his socks when he bumps his head on the edge of the night stand. Steadying himself, he decides to lie down until the pain subsides and finds himself closing his eyes to help with the dizziness he feels.

Darkness of Love

The dark stone railings glisten in the moonlit night as wolves howl their mating calls in the distance, I walk toward the abandoned house rumored haunted by a wailing widow whose mate was lost at sea.

I ignore the warnings bought forth by the fearful people all around me as I continue my uncertain journey. I feel a strong determination to prove them wrong and make a name for myself in this sleepy little seaborne town with no name of importance.

Every step I take echoes in the howling wind, and for a brief second, I hesitate. However, I stay determined to press forward in my journey despite my inner voice screaming to turn around. I come upon the front door adorned with gargoyles hanging from the door un-knocked for decades since that fateful night of the widow Baxter’s plunge from the towers. Towers that hang far above the crashing waves on bedrocks beneath the widow’s peak.

I enter the widow Baxter’s abode, noticing the crickets chirping in the night. I wonder to myself if Dracula will appear to claim me as his servant, and find myself jumping out of my shoes as the bell tower starts to echo the witching hour of midnight over and over.

I hear the sound of music from the upstairs parlor, wondering if perhaps paranoia has overcome my senses. Slowly creeping up the stairs, hearing laughter of children running in the distance as if I am transported back in time to a simpler time. Snapped out of my fugue by the creaking of chains dragging on the rusted old floors creaking slowly toward me as I hurry up the winding staircase up to the music filled room beckoning my attention.

Opening the door slowly as if in fear of disturbing the source of such music and coming upon the back of a woman. A woman who turns around to showcase a most angelic face, white as snow, lips as red as crimson lit up on a fiery night. Her angelic smile beckons me to enter the room, her eyes like giant pools of water glistening as if the sun was shining in them. Coming closer as I become transfixed by her raving beauty that the slamming of the door behind me fails to bring me out of the trance I’ve entered. Hearing the music playing in my head, I moved closer to this beauty, not sure of what to expect but knowing my fate lies in her hands.

Coming upon her flesh, cold as ice like the icicles hanging from the ceiling on a winter night, her lips burning with heat as she brushes them upon my cheek arching for her touch. Unaware of my actions as we come together in a dance as the music plays to only her and I. Not sure of who this woman is, but neither caring as I fall more and more under her spell.. Hearing the ship blaring its horn in the foggy night, I wonder what I seek as she takes my hand and lead me to the window. Outside in the night with a moon as full and luminous as can be, I hear the crashing of the waves over and over again. Feeling the coldness of her touch, I realize who I am with, for this is the Widow Baxter leading me to my death for her purpose is to find a mate to lie with in death at the bottom of the widow hill.

Little do I know as she and I descend out the window, that I resemble her late husband. As if coming to her house, granted her wish for her husband’s return in the form of my mortal body. Not wanting to lose me again, she leads me to my death and I realize this as I fall toward the rocky bottom. Neither afraid or scared of what is to come because I have truly found my love for I am her husband reincarnated in a lad from another town. This I realize and communicate to her as I meet the end of my life.

Embrace of Darkness

He wakes up in a pool of sweat, breathing a sigh of relief that all he thought had happened was just a nightmare. Trying to catch his breath, he tries to get up and hits his head on something hard right above him. He falls back down and waits as the static clouding his vision subsides before raising his hand to feel what is above him. Feeling something cold and metal causes great distress and he tries to roll over only to find he doesn’t have enough space to do even that.

Finding himself still out of breath, he realizes just then that he is trapped in a coffin and wonders if he screams loud enough that someone will hear and rescue him from a pre-mature death. Screaming a few times, he hears no response and stays silent to determine if there is movement around him. All he can hear is a slight vibration above him as dirt is being shoveled on top of the coffin.

Pounding on the coffin, he realizes that most likely this particular coffin is sound proof and becomes frantic at the thought that his time on earth is ending sooner then he thought. Trying to figure out how he ended up being buried alive, he starts to wonder if his venture up to the Widow Baxter’s abode was not a nightmare, but an actual trek.

As he makes this realization, he feels his vision slowly start to fade as he surrenders to the sweet allure of darkness that will be his fate. His final memory is one of regret for truly never finishing all that he meant to do as his eyes close and his breathing lessons to a faint wheeze before darkness gathers him into its embrace.

Jayson J Crady during the day handles accounting and finance, but during the night lets his alter ego come out and immerses himself into the world of reading and writing.  His blog can be found at Confessions of a Coffeholic and can be followed on Twitter at @happinessisgold 

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For the month of October, Listing Beyond Forty is Listing Toward Halloween, featuring posts related to or inspired by Halloween.

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