Vernacular Dirge

Rime of the Mourning Dead

by J.W. Arthur

I received this dreadful call...late last night,

from a voice of bone-chilling fright.

Lo, it whispered in my ear that it feasted on my fears,

‘n my soul...would soon fill its appetite.

The sheer anticipation in its tone,

sent me stumbling, forsaking hearth and home.

'n as I raced to my car, underneath a sea of stars,

I felt certain...that I was now all alone.

Desp’rately, I slammed shut 'n locked the door,

my rattled heart shaken to its very core,

With windows steamin' up, Lo, I gasped 'n froze—it struck,

'n so I'm dead today...face-up in a morgue.

© 2024 by J.W. Arthur. All rights reserved.

Inspired by the slow-burn, atmospheric horror of author Ramsey Campbell & director John Carpenter.

*Currently reworking this into a sonnet.