A Walk

Through a field of grass you walk,
The sun is hard to find.
It is daylight, midday,
but no normal light does here shine.

With darkness hinting on the edge,
You find yourself on the ledge.
A bridge of wood, dark and old,
You wonder if it will hold.

The ripple of water below,
Not deep but fear it bestows.
The crossing leads to more questions.

Scattered trees loom above,
No sign of squirrel or dove.
A small meadow you cross now,
Nervous sweat upon your brow.

A cabin stands for generations past,
A meandering walkway, could this be the last?
You approach an ancient door,
Unlike ever witnessed before.

What horror could these walls conceal,
A terror that could not be real.
The door swings and metal clangs,
A coat rack topples.

Inside a fire lights,
Lounge chair and book, table-side.
An old man moves within,
Neck hair stands on end.

“Come in boy, this is not the end,
Hurry now, you’ll let the darkness in.”
Inside a step or two we take,
Could this all be fake?

Seated beside the wise old man,
He’s now close enough, you notice his hand.
A ring of two tone gold,
Doesn’t look that old.

Quite familiar in fact…
How could I have lost track!?
Mine was still secure,
Only a few moments before.

The fire goes out.

The cabin creaks.

A breeze across your neck.

Or a breath.