Illusions of an Old Man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
An old man living alone has a recurring dream every night that leaves him terriefied afterwards. One night though.....

Submitted: November 14, 2012

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Submitted: November 14, 2012



Tap. Tap. Tap. Went his footsteps slowly.

Slowly, as I wake from my slumber.

Slowly, as I wake up in my dreamland.

Slowly, as I see the room darkens.

I heard footsteps outside my door before.


Tap. Tap. Tap. He enters my house.

Slowly, upon the carpet floor fog-like.

Slowly, like feline paws hunting prey.

Slowly, as the curtains shiver with dread.

Too bad I’m too old to do anything.


Tap. Tap. Tap. He is at the foyer.

Slowly, his footsteps whisper on the floor.

Slowly, the room darkens again.

Slowly, as I smell damp air seeping through.

No doubt, wet earth from the cemetery.


Thud. Thud. Thud. He’s climbing up the stairs.

Slowly, forcing me to wallow in fear.

Slowly, his steps echoing ominously.

Slowly, as I hear church bells ringing.

No doubt, they know a thing or two, not I.


Thud. Thud. Tap. He’s on the second floor.

Slowly, I FEEL the room darken once more.

Slowly, the hallway too short to stall him.

Slowly, his footsteps louder than the last.

Too bad I’m too weak to do anything.


Tap. Tap. Tap. He’s in the hallway.

Slowly, the floor creaks under his feet.

Slowly, his steps are closer to my door.

Slowly, my throat tastes numbness, nothing more.

Too bad I’m too scared to do anything.


Tap. Tap. Tap. He is outside my door.

Slowly, he halts in front of my door.

Slowly, my heart beating oddly.

Slowly, the room darkens for a fourth time.

No doubt, the room will be darker still.


Rap. Rap. Rap. He is knocking at my door.

Slowly, he knocks with authority.

Slowly, I hear him twisting the knob.

Slowly, the door creaks inch by inch.

No doubt, his blade ready to do its work.


Tap. Tap. Tap. He is inside my room.

Slowly, he oozes towards me.

Slowly, his cloak flutters like the shadows.

Slowly, the room darkens for one last time.

Too bad that Death is in my dream again.


Tap. Tap. Tap. Death is at my bedside.

Slowly, his black hood gazes at me.

Slowly, his scythe rises above my heart.

Slowly, just like every dream in past years.

Too bad that this is not a dream.

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