The Nightmare

Another old experiment for a writing class. Rather silly, but we were prompted to write something scary sooo .....

The Nightmare

When slumber calls at the witching hour

they creep and crawl as the tolling bell

grants them by a necromantic power,

like master reaching from icy hell.

I walk alone through the garden of stone,

the damp grass cushions my tentative steps.

At first unknown, this, a garden of bone,

till a cold hand clasps from the dirty depths.

Dusty bits of earthy decay

shower around the creature's form.

Stinking stench clothed molding array

from its slumber by evil torn.

A soundless scream; a powerless cry,

skeletal maw grins a wicked gleam.

Horror bound my mind grasps for the lie -

Is it only a dream? ... It was only a dream.