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. 


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