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

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