HALLOWEEN

Because of the fact that at times I have a loud
Rasping, sometimes booming voice,
And the place that I dwell is so dark and dank.
Very few people come down here
AH, but the young lad who has to come down here now and again to
Get coal for the fire.
He is my one source of entertainment
If indeed it can be called that.
I can see his silhouette from the moment he opens the door
At the top of the stairs,
With the light behind him standing there
With a shovel in one hand and the coal scuttle in the other.
A little nervous about the darkness
at the bottom of the stairs.
I watch him as he comes down the stairs and along the passageway
The further he gets from the stairs the gloomier it becomes
He is now very close to the coal store.
I start to make shuffling like sounds, he stops,
Turns quickly, looking around
Trying to see what is making the noise.
I can almost see the fear building up inside him,
He starts to move again.
I make harsh but barely audible roars slowly getting louder.
I can really see the fear in him now,
He knows I'm getting closer but he can't see me
The final straw is my cold icy breath on his neck.
He screams, turns throwing both scuttle and shovel into the darkness
And runs for the stairs.
Stumbling over items left scattered over the floor of the cellar
Arms outstretched he regains his balance
I am after him chasing him through the darkness
Screaming after him
I can still feel his fear.
He scrambles up the stairs using both hands and feet
He is out through the door, I slam it shut after him.
You see I can do that, for I am the wind.