Snow Flurries

This is a weird one. It started as the idea of a kid, home alone, being hunted down by a Abomiable Snowman dead in the middle of a huge snowstorm. I have no idea where the twist came from...

Snow flurries

Flying down, escaping the clutches of the clouds,

Crash-landing in to an unknown world

Featuring unknown places,

And unknown creatures.

 

Window pane

Frosted with ice

Is the gateway in which David looks at the icy landscape,

Wondering what strange beings wander

The icy land

In search of food:

Namely, him.

 

Shivers

Down the back of his spine

As a shriek cuts through the night,

Bending

Billowing

Piercing

The very fabric of fear.

 

Parents aren’t home,

New movie down at the Theatre

“Not old enough, sorry”

Baby-sitter not answering�"

He never liked her anyway.

(And isn’t he just too old for one, anyway?)

(He certainly thinks so)

 

Stops

Thinking

Footsteps

At

The

Back porch:

Friend or foe?

 

Turns around,

Slowly,

As to not make noise,

Fearful breaths billowing around in the well-heated room

A sound scraping the back door:

Key or claw?

 

He’s a believer:

UFO’s, cryptids, potato men,

He’s heard it all.

Sasquatch:

Hairy man of the snow,

Taking
boys like him,

Snacking on them,

Feasting on them for their dinner.

(12-year-old boys especially)

 

Red eyes glaring

At him through the porch window

Hungry eyes

Eyes that know who is the predator, and who’s the prey

Mad eyes

Eyes that cry

“Scream little one, and your death will be a short one!”

 

He shakes his head.

His death will not be a short one,

Did the Saturday Morning Cartoon heroes have short deaths?

No.

Today,

He was what his father had been training him to be

For twelve years now:

A Sasquatch hunter.

 

His father,

Slayer of the Mokele Mbembe,

Hunter of El Chubracabra,

Natural born predator of the Bigfoot.

 

His father,

Who had once raised a baby

Nessie

In an aquarium.

 

Now was his chance

To prove himself,

To prove his worth,

And

To maybe go on (finally!)

An expedition to Africa.

 

Now was his time.

 

Fireplace poker,

Sitting on its rack,

Perfect.

 

Today, he was a boy.

Tonight, he was a man.

 

The snow flurries muffle the roars of pain.

 

 

Author's Note

One of my first poems; I tried to capture a strange sense of horror at first, them make it kind of fulfilling and comedic at the end.

Reviews

[spence]

This is pretty cool. It begins like snapshots of a dream and ends up like a sequence of childhood fears and bold courage prominent in the young. it's also got a very profound tribal element to it that got me hooked too. I'm very impressed by this actually. I like it more the more I read it. You've definitely got a penchant for psychological horror stories- this was all encompassing and I didn't know what to expect next. The child's fantasising and bravado added to the trepidation- almost like when you're a kid and you think something's lurking under your bed, so you make up all these scenario's where you are the fearless hero in your own story. Very unique poetry style too. Nice one, spence

[spence]

Oh yeah- I love that you mentioned chubucabra the 'goatsucker' too. That's my favourite 'mythological' beast!

[Ian]

yes i see it kept on making me want to know what happens next
and it was humorous i likw what it said" His father,Who had once raised a baby Nessie In an aquarium"
great poem