Inhuman Haunt

They were entering the Haunted House
when real fear was born;
four of them, teenage lads,
fragile for the occasion.
All it wanted was the right to be,
to exist (to haunt),
this otherworldly entity,
“born” from alien demise.
They could not have known
it was not human,
nor was once human.
The four lads expected howls
and thumps
and the usual stereotypical
sounds associated
with ghostly indoctrination.
Instead, walls melted,
black orbs swirled overhead
with myriad maws
full of gold teeth;
robust, red webs sagged
at eye level
allowing clicking spiders
access to gnaw
acne laden countenance.
All this, as dimensions
of space were unbounded--
scare was black hole depth,
bones were thinnest glass.
Lads were never the same.


30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
10-31-19