THE CRY OF THE BANSHEE

THE CRY OF THE BANSHEE I parted the webs from my half-glued shut eyes, as the strong smell of mold rose to greet me,when up from the grave sprang a crazed banshee!As disturbed slumber brought forth angry cries,her talon like nails ripped the back of my thighsI knew I had found the true angel of the macabre,When the stench of her breath, rendered me a zombieMy legs turned to stone as fodder for the flysAs her hair whipped my back I felt hypnotizedOn the wall she made appear a mirror and I tried to look away but I could not help but see herI tried to scream but she had stolen my voiceand all that came out was a gruff little croakAs I looked up before me I saw daylight creep inand it was coming from the curtains just over my bedOh thank god, it was only a dream, "Where’s this dirt from," I said. WordPlaya, Feb 2009