F. P. Dorchak

Speculative Fiction Author

Hallowe'en

Fear

by

You're Mine.... (@Doug88888)
You’re Mine…. (@Doug88888)

Since this is October, and I really love Hallowe’en, I’m going to try to get more into the, um, spirit of things more this year. For the rest of the month, I’m going to make a better attempt at posting all-things Hallowe’en and spooky. I love spooky. Not gory and graphic (though excuse my prose poem, below…), but “old-school spooky.” Atmospheric. If I get my way, I’ll post some cool cemetery shots I’ve taken (if I can get them scanned; see, I think I have some great shots from Alexandria, VA area, but they were before the advent of the digital camera….), some favorite spooky movies, reads, monsters. So, we’ll see how that goes. In the meantime, here’s a prose poem I penned years ago, and which had been published only once, in a now-defunct Canadian magazine, called Tyro. I changed one word in posting it this time: “of” to “for,” in the second line, second stanza.

Fear

It was the Devil’s own pitch,

a darkness utterly corrupt and vile.

 

I couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t hear a thing,

The silence absolute—except for that internal ringing sound.

 

I turned, slowly.

The only way I could know this,

was by the steps my feet made over each other.

 

That’s when I came face to face with it,

teeth ripping my face apart…

© 1989, Originally appeared in Tyro, issue #19.

By The Light Of The Moon…

by

By the light of the moon

From the dirt where they lay

They crawl up through earth

To lurk and to prey

They’ve lived and they’ve died

Loved and they’ve lost

But all through this night

Your lives they will toss

             .

Dogs they do bark

Cats they do prowl

Seasons turn chill

And the winds always howl

             .

The myths grow more sick

As clocks do tock tick

For the hour draws near

Of the dark, dread, and fear

             .

Clawed up through dark soil

Within earth they cannot stay

Their legions do roil

Their skin away flays

             .

Leaves rustle, they scatter

Trees all play dead

Rotting bodies that shamble

Are all canted of head

             .

Twitching fright and dead leer

Slack jaws that just fall

Is that shuffling, you hear?

Painful groaning, oh dear!

             .

Prickly skin sent a-crawl

With grand sights of appall

It’s your soul they ill seek

For much more than a peek

             .

Heinous hungry they are

And with them you’ll soon be

Scent of the grave, taste of death

Damp decay you’ll soon cheek

             .

You run and you hide

Scream and you plead

But in truth be it known

Your death is their need!

             .

As civility slumbers

And the retched do creep

Eternal rest will ne’er be

As the dead they do reap

             .

From dirt deathly fearsome

From dirt yet we run

But tis dirt that we are

Tis dirt we become

             .

By the light of the moon

From the dirt where we lay

We crawl up through earth

To lurk…and to prey….