RUN

If, then poetry...one sentence.

IF

you're

out in the

woods camping

with friends especially

girls, having pillow fights and

passing a bottle of vodka back and

forth and you're just getting ready to talk

in whispers and giggles about sex and kissing and

who's gone how far with who, and maybe you'll even

end up kissing another girl tonight, just to experiment, but

then there's a sound like some bones breaking, the sharp snap of

pine and then a rustling in the dark just beyond the range of your flashlight

and all the girls, you're all huddled around that weak beam and something is moving,

coming closer through the darkness and then it stops, an owl hoots, a branch sways and a

 

rabbit

         skitters

                    past,

 

so you're

all laughing

nervously and

then reaching for

the vodka bottle again

until a another noise catches

your ears, this one from behind you,

like a low rumbling and metal catching on

metal, something not quite right in the woods,

something grating, so you drop the bottle and push

the other girls toward the noise, and at that second from

inside the shadows of shadows he or maybe it comes rushing,

wearing old coveralls and a hockey mask and swinging a screaming

chainsaw over his head cutting two quick swathes through Shelly and

Belinda or whatever their names were, just call them meat now, and then

he sets that mask on you and steps forward and throttles the saw once, twice,

three times and you see the reds of his pupils and smell the grave on his breath, then 

RUN.

Author's Note

walt whitman was pretty jealous when he read this.

Reviews

[shandi]

Great! Nice flow and pretty exciting!

Very funny! I love the slasher movies! You should run but they stand there screaming! Great poem!