Haunted
Stranger, you must have made a wrong turn somewhere outside of town to end up here in these woods on this lonely stretch of dirt road. Our abandoned house, tucked away in this tangle of overgrown trees, is an intriguing sight with its weathered skin, and yard abloom in wildflowers, but do not stop because …
the air feels strangely different here. Like cold breath — inhaling, exhaling, and seeping into your head to lurk there like a shadow. And even if you tiptoe in a little closer just to pick a handful of flowers, Daddy’s forever-self will find you as he whistles through the trees, trailing the promise of adventure with him. He will lure you past my broken swing, twisting and untwisting on its single rope, and onto the porch. But do not go inside because …
there is a hunger in the empty house. Its hollow belly moans and gnaws on the ghostly dust of birds and other long-dead things. Its walls are lined with cobweb lace and seem to breathe as you walk past. Upstairs, a slamming door will make you jump and turn to face a stairwell mouth. You’ll hope those fangs you see are merely shadows of its splintered steps, but know, it is no ordinary play of light and dark that brings those shivers to your skin. So, when you hear the growling coming from its darkened throat, do not hesitate because …
his bitter chill on sharpened tongues of wind will chase you out back where wild roses grab and dig into your hands and face as you run past. Behind, his panting will push you down a covered path, past the willow-switch tree into the sickly woods. As you cower, lying flat on dirt and twigs and leaves, you’ll hear me whisper up from the ground. Run! Do not let the shadow crawl across the ground and up your legs, because …
stranger, you cannot hide from Daddy. So, drive on by. Do not let the past drag you back and bury you deep in yesterday.
