The Midnight Toll

A cross-post of a short poem (my first one in fact) about the last hours in the lives of a man and a young boy trying to make their escape from a beast pursuing them.

The clock tower's bell rang nine times proud and bold

A bellowing call for a pure young boy's soul


Grasped by the wrist, the chase it began

Through the cold, barren streets - alone - we ran


The bell rang again, as sky swallowed moon

I Tightened my grip, for the end would come soon


This darkness, it seems, was neither beast nor man

But a long, cold, dark finger of the devil's black hand


The street became narrow; light became thin

I dared to look back and saw a hideous grin


We ran ever onward, with no end in sight

Until the darkness was broken by brilliant white light


Two streetlights created our final refuge

On the verge the shade pulsed like a vicious deluge


As the clock closed in on the eleventh hour

The lights faltered a bit, our luck had gone sour


The bell rang eleven, it latched onto the boy

Then tore at his flesh with malevolent joy


With my hand still clenched 'round his delicate wrist

I could feel the boy fading as he slipped through my fist


The bell rang twelve as I pulled the boy free

But alas, he'd lost both his legs past the knee


I laid there as his blood ran down into the drain

While the shade slowed and stopped his shrill cries of pain


The boy was strung out, like some discarded clutter

His entrails stretched from one curb to the other


We briefly locked eyes, he made not a noise

As the shade hauled him silently into the void


Tears slowly gathered and streamed from my eyes

I had come to terms, I'd no choice but to die


I pulled from my pocket the last trick up my sleeve

And put a bullet in each of the lights on the street


My last bastion vanished, the darkness rushed in

As I pulled the stiff trigger of the gun at my chin

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed