On these pages, a story writ’
Not lines of love, near opposite.
With wicked words, bursting seams.
and pictures ripped from horror scenes.
This transcript: tallied tragedy
seemed first clear of trickery
such that I said, with full belief:
“I simply bought a book,
simply bought a simple book
bought a simple book this early morn.”
Nary a choice did I resent
more than my steps up staircase bent.
Had I known what fate was in store,
I would’ve stopped short of the door
and listened to my heart’s retort
turn my back to oaken boards;
neglect to knock, proceed no more.
Alas, the wiser choice did seem
like foreign words I could not read;
a weaker foe to curiosity.
Thus on ornate door, my knocks numbered three.
On portal’s edge, the wait did seem
a lifetime spent, eternity.
Heard racing heart, mistakening
its pounding pulse for echoed feet.
A lock’s release, my wait was for;
an unlatched oaken ornate door.
As portal opened to the store,
of echoed feet, I thought no more.
Creaking hinges, a'rust with age
made way for shop-keep's leathered face.
His cobwebbed volumes filled the space
and gave the air a smell and taste.
My steps were slow; I didn’t know
what book, which nook my search was for.
So I walked the aisles for a while:
‘Till a hidden book stood out
A hidden nook stood out
A hidden book’s nook stood out.
Into that nook, up to that book
my outstretched arms raised hands that shook.
But now I see that I was blind
to evil glints in shop-keep's eye,
and how my steps had crossed the line,
but like a fool who pays no mind,
I gripped book's spine, as chill gripped mine.
Alas, Where once I felt so free
this “simple” book imprisoned me!
Looking back, it's plain to see:
Text locked the door, and tossed the keys.
On portal’s edge, I sat a spell,
For front my eyes, world turned to Hell.
Clocktower bells rang out death knells,
Mixed metaphor with sulphured smells.
A lock released, as if untied
My gaze was torn from what I spied.
As I walked home amid the storm,
of echoed feet, I thought once more.
What harkened there and shadowed so?
It made no noise; I didn’t know.
and so my treads fell soft as snow.
Heard silence then, and nothing more.
TO BE CONTINUED....
©2019 Away With Words