Where Nightmares Lurk

Sinister

Jesse peered
Through a dusty window,
Many questions swirled in his head.

'Cause one second he was home
The next he's in a room
Where the only light is the moon–
And no memory
Of how he got there.

His sea green eyes
Scanned the ancient room.

Everything was full of dust and mold
And looked centuries old
But uneasiness
Began to unfold
For he caught a glimpse of red.

"Why is there blood on the floor?"
Doesn't matter, just get out.
He spotted an old oak door.

Under Jesse's weight           
The floorboards creaked
As he wandered over
And opened it with a squeak.

Heart banging in his chest,
He popped his head out

The first thing he noticed
In the sempiternal halls
Were the glowing candles
Propped up on the walls.
"What is this? The 1800s?"
He thought jokingly as he crept down the hall.
Though he couldn't hide
The dread of it all
And the flames seemed to mock him
As they bounced off the wall.

Gurgling and groaning
Resonated from the floor above
And he picked up his pace.

Once Jesse found his way
To a living room and entryway
His nostrils were smacked
With a gagging smell of decay.
Beaten blood blanketed couches lay against a wall.

He thought to himself "I cannot stay".

Hope fluttered in his chest
As as he noticed mighty double doors
Looming ahead.
So he dashed
With freedom in his grasp
And he tugged on the brass
Of the door handle.

His heart sank
It wouldn't budge.

Suddenly
An echo rang in his ears
The sound of something
Limping down the stairs
While maniacal laughter
Filled the air.
Jesse's panic flared

He sprang out the nearest window
Scattering shards of glass everywhere.

He bolted
Ignoring the searing agony.

But once he reached
The nearest street corner
He froze in his tracks.
Chills crawled down his back
As he shifted to peer
Back at that dreaded shack.

All anyone heard
Were his screams.

The horror that laid before his eyes
On that nippy November night
Was himself
Contorted, pale
Staring back
With sunken forbidding eyes
And a twisted sinister smile
From ear to ear
Permanent and wide

So all anyone could hear
Was his blood curdling cries.
___________________________
Yes, I am aware that the drawing is of Mr.Widemouth but I didn't have any other good pictures for this one and I want all of the art and photos in this to be mine soo yeah.. Also I believe I wrote this in 2018 and it was my first attempt at writing a short story poem. So I apologize if it isn't that good.