The house filled with fear;
swollen walls like a sigh.
An echo wanders the halls.
Is your skin crawling,
pimpling to sighs and sobs?--
Something moved! Didn’t you see it?
Even the eight-legged fiend has fled,
his sticky nest behind.
Did you hear laughter? Or was it a groan?
Memory of sound is frozen
in frigid air--
your bloodless fingers grip a dusty banister.
Cracks and bumps
in the wood and rock, there to trip
shadowy corners and once-living vegetation.
Trees--leafless and looming, the
bark rotten and decayed.
Written for my Creative Writing Portfolio (ENG 306) from an exercise entitled "Haunted House," 2005.