| < Back to Phoophie Tales | Gage's Gruesome Tales >> |
Dimly lighting The notebook hidden Under the scratchy blanket. I shift around, And gently tap the pen To my tongue And put it to the pad. I write. The pen strokes Black ink gracefully Across the paper. I write to my mother. Dear mother--writes I. I miss you. I am lonely. The camp is horrible and I am hot and tired. My friends are asleep as it is 3:00 A.M. I am frightened-- I want to rest In your gentle, loving arms And wish the terror away. I love you More than anything, And I am reminded of your help, In this time of need. I am in a tent. Trapped. And I am too scared To exit. It is so hot. Unbearably. And despite fear, I must get air. I wish you were here. To guide me. And keep me safe. Farewell--writes I. I exit the tent. And stroke the flashlight. Across the haven sky. And to a bird, sees to soar. A rustling hears I. Hark! Nothing but a Sound of wind. ? And I tread the ground. Godspeed And trip To the dirt. I rise. My lips torn And bloody. And another sound. A wild howl of terror And then a shriek Of fear. I gasp for Breath And run to My safe tent. Perhaps warn the scouts Thinks I. And help me with the battle And possibly share the glory. More rustling And howling And screaming And writhing. The pain is building. I arrive at Camp and shout For help But to no response. The camp is empty. I panic. And shall die I? Pray not. I scream again. My throat is sore. Shall stop I? Nay. Heavy footsteps. And thuds. But no voices. No prevail. Not human is here Nor help. Nor mercy. But animal. I catch a glimpse of brown fur. And white teeth. Open split My thigh! Cry in pain Do I And awkwardly Escape. Through the forest Sprints I Leaving the roaring Behind me. The beast is terrible. Sharp teeth Protrude! May God have mercy! And resting on Haunches At the ready to Pounce. Rest I. Against a shady oak. And may I surrender. And never see the light. My thigh is bleeding. I staunch the wound. But my scent is in Air. I awake to Gray morning light. And the chaos Long left. Around the bushes wanders I For wilderness And rescue. But lo! A shadow. I cry and Glance to the left And straight into The beastie's eyes. |