Poet #Fifteen

Once on a cold, dark winter night
When I was walking alone
I found myself lost in the woods
And the battery died on my phone.

Tapping furiously on the keys
I emitted an angry sigh
The wind whispered eerily through the trees
And the stars turned off in the sky.

Plunged into darkness without my phone
I stumbled blindly around
Then went tumbling into an unseen ditch
And prayed I soon would be found.

“Help Me!” I screamed, pleading
As fear started to set,
“This hole in the ground is freezing
And really rather wet!”

I tapped once more at my phone
But to no avail
When suddenly my shouts were answered
By a near-by Quail.

“A Quail?” I proclaimed,
Shouldst thou not be a raven?
Though maybe Quails are the bird you want
To return you to your haven”.

The Quail let out a single low note
And took off into the night
“How bizarre” I wondered aloud
“I thought Quails rarely took flight!”

As I was contemplating this odd event
The forest began to shake
With bats and birds and buzzing things
Flying in my wake.

The Quail had brought them to me
But to my surprise
They were not here to save me, no,
They were after my demise.

They chased me to a chamber
Hidden deep underground
A chamber in which only things
Of horror stories were found.

Forgotten nightmares and beasts alike
Are left here to decay
Waiting for the day they are rescued
For this is what they pray.

My only consolation is
That this is where I belong
For I am a beast, a nightmare
And I have done much wrong.

And this is where I remain
This chamber is where I reside
Where I and other forgotten horrors
Are all forced to hide.

The End

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