One Too Many Gothic Stories
By Jessica Scott
Listen close to my twisted tale
Of a night that was cold and dark.
A scream rang out in the sleeping city,
And a dog began to bark.
A wind blew through the deserted streets,
Deserted, or so I thought,
But who could have seen a knife in that hand,
One that looked like the one I’d brought.
I should have known, I should have seen,
The signs were all so clear.
You never see the end of life coming;
You never see the point of the spear.
And so I stand here, dark and cold,
Blood dripping down my blade.
And you, dear Reader, lying there
As your life begins to fade.
© 2014 Jessica Scott.
All Rights Reserved.