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The Ghost on the Stairs
Stormy had the evening started,
Bolts of lightening outside had darted,
All about, to and fro,
And wouldn't you know,
With the thunder and raining, my fear never parted.
But with such horrific ambience around,
And that dusty old tome of mystery I had found;
I felt deep in my bone,
Despite that I was alone,
To a good scare I was bound.
I had settled in the easiest of chairs,
The one adjacent to the great oaken stairs.
Poring over a good book,
On the capers of a crook.
When I dozed off with the slightest of cares.
As I slept so soundly, as quietly as a flea,
I imagine the storm outside a violent sea.
Yet I lay quite still,
Perhaps from sheer will,
Too great was the weariness upon me.
But as sudden as a rush, my slumber was broken,
Not being that a person had spoken.
My heart it did pound,
Though no one was around.
Yet from my sound sleep I had awoken.
Startled, upright, perched upon chair's edge,
And my courage I did try to hedge.
But there on the stair,
As if with no care,
A willowy shadow did perch on stair's ledge.
From whence it had come, I know not.
It was just there in a shot.
And my heart, it did quiver,
And despite that I shivered,
My brow had become rather hot.
The shadowy form would not retreat,
And this fact kept me upon edge of seat.
For if I were to run,
I believed just for fun,
It would chase me down, with foot so fleet!
My fear, it did grow, as lightening crackled outside.
Courage lacking left me with eyes opened wide.
What was I to do?
All my senses had flew,
With myself numb, I could manage no stride.
But a friendly shade to be it did seem,
For a warming brilliance from it did beam.
And lit up the night,
Waylaying my fright.
Not a nightmare was it, but a dream.
And as fast as it had come, it went away.
But its comforting light inside me did stay.
The storms rage that night,
Was no longer a fright,
Now quietly peaceful I did lay.
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