The turning of the screw

2015/01/img_5645-0.jpgphoto origin

There is the familiar weight
In the sound
Of someone walking through the house at night
The echo of
furniture dragged across the floor
And then that one sound
Children crying

You think something has moved
In with you
You look through the house
There’s a door
Behind the door there is a stairway
Just as you reach the top
You hear foot steps below
As children’s toys start running
Behind the wall
Behind the wall
A hidden door…

there
you find your bodies
Lying in the floor
And remember…
It was
Gunshots from behind you
Fingers clawing at the floor
the turning of the screws
As they bolted up the door.

You’re not the haunted
You’re the haunting
You don’t live here anymore ….

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