On this dark night, I walked alone. Seeds of suspicion soon were sown,
As the blackbirds that once had flown lay dormant in their leafy homes,
And I, the simple man, with no company at hand, walked this eerie night alone.
I climbed the windy hilltop, the air strangely acrid,
Beginning to do what I had set out to do, but soon I grew distracted.
A mysterious sound pierced the night, filling me with fear.
I dropped my tools and cupped my hands, putting them over my ears.
I couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand it, couldn’t bear to hear
This wretched noise that rang through the darkness, filling me with fear.
I turned around to leave, to run right through the wooded brush,
But there a shadowed hooded figure stood, saying nothing, not a hush.
“Hello,” I said, unnerved by the man’s quiet nature.
This isn’t a scary story, I thought to myself, feeling somewhat safer.
Maybe he’s just like me, out here doing nightly labor
Or perhaps, he’s simply a lost, sleepwalking neighbor?
As if he had heard me, or somehow read my mind,
The hooded man responded, “I’m neither, you’ll come to find.”
“Have we met before? Do I know you?” timidly I said.
“Oh, I know you.” He appeared to smile, though I could not see his head.
Then, like an animal, he seemed to shed,
Tossing away his velvet robes that looked a rusted shade of red.
And now, at the true sight of him, I felt an overwhelming sense of dread,
For I did know him after all, as the taker of the dead.
His ghostly face contorted into a smile as mine filled with horror.
“Why are you here?” I asked this unholy scorer.
“I’ve done nothing wrong, I’m a good man,” I whispered faintly.
His skeletal body lumbered towards me, his movements quite ungainly.
“You speak quite vainly,” he boomed. “And I must say, you have not been very saintly.”
“This, what you’ve done, what you’ve been doing, do you think it’s good?”
Affronted by his question, I said, “Sir, you seem to have misunderstood.”
“No, I have not!” his voice echoed through the trees.
“You think I am someone you can fool? Me?
Well, if you want to run and hide, then so it shall be.”
I began to back away from him, desperate to be free.
“Go,” he commanded. “I’ll give you til’ the count of three.”
But something held me back, a thread of guilt unspooled,
In shadows, my own conscience loomed, where I once had been fooled.
“One, two”—my heart raced, each beat a pulse of sin,
Memories danced before my eyes, the darkness creeping in.
Each face I’d hidden from, each whisper in the night,
All the screams that filled the air, now seemed to claw at light.
“Do you remember them?” he taunted, his voice a chilling breeze,
“The ones who fell beneath your hand, their echoes on the trees?
You thought yourself a clever fox, but fate’s a vengeful king,
Now you run from me, yet it’s your sins that will sting.”
“Three”—like thunder, time was up; my breath caught in my chest,
“Please, let me go!” I begged him now, my thoughts a desperate mess.
But he just laughed, a sound like ice, sharp and cruelly spun,
“Your life was never yours to keep; the debt has come undone.”
He raised a bony finger, pointing straight to where I stood,
“Look deep within your restless heart, tell me again, have you been good?”
I trembled as the truth took root, the weight of every crime,
Each life I stole, each whispered lie, all counted up this time.
“Run,” he said, and as I fled, I felt the darkness follow,
A specter at my heels, in my past I began to wallow.
No more the simple man, but a shadow cloaked in fear,
Running from the ghost of guilt, his laughter ringing clear.
I broke through branches, wild and raw, into the night’s embrace,
But every step I tried to take just led me back to my place.
The faces of my victims flashed, their eyes a hollow plea,
“Escape is not your destiny; you cannot set us free!”
With every stride, my heart betrayed, its rhythm fell away,
The truth was heavy on my back, like chains that would not sway.
As dawn began to break the sky, I knew I could not hide,
For in my heart, I felt it stir—the guilt I could not bide.
And so, the hooded figure laughed, his voice a bitter chime,
“Your past will always haunt you, for it knows no sense of time.
The lives that you have taken, the people you’ve led to me,
Did you think after all that killing, I’d really let you be?”
The ground beneath me trembled, the sky began to weep,
As Death, with bony fingers, claimed the promises I’d keep.
“Your dance has come to silence, your masquerade must cease,
For all must reckon with their sins; there’s no escape from peace.”
He reached for me, a grasp like shackles, and pulled me to his side,
“Embrace the weight of what you’ve sown; you cannot run or hide.”
With one last breath, I closed my eyes, my spirit set adrift,
In Death’s cold arms, I found my truth, the bitter, final gift.
No longer just a simple man, but a soul forever bound,
To wander through the endless night, where all my faults resound.
For in this world, the debts we owe will one day find their claim,
And every shadow that we cast returns to bear our name.
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