gothicism

gothicism

A Story by heavvur

              Rain poured softly on the window pane with a swift pitter patter, making the old house sound as if it were full of rats. Cobwebs lined the pane and created a shadow against the far wall. The doom and gloom outside was shattered with the quick flash of light, only to be followed by darkness yet again. Chillingly, nothing moved. The static of the night seemed to emanate after the last bolt of light. Nothing was visible except the candelabra that lit a distant hall. Creaks haunted the halls, accompanied by dread and apathy. Here, our hero lays his scene.

 

               Gasping, I open my eyes and feel as if I hadn’t opened them at all. The dreariness in my heart was echoed in the lack of sight around me. My throat is swollen; no sound shall be made. The last thing I remember is the emptiness, the feeling of loneliness, though the whole family stood in the room. There was nothing I could do. Sitting up, I keep my ears peeled for anything that could possibly be heard. Nothing. I stand up and catch my balance on the armoire next to me. I can’t see a thing and an ominous feeling comes over me. Never will I be able to explain it.

 

               Stumbling to the dining hall I light a match. Lighting candles, the room glows in a melancholy orange aura. A spider scampers away and my heart goes along with it. The longing feeling radiates around the room. I glance up and see the moon appear from behind the dark night clouds. The sudden change of light from gold to silver causes a sense of nostalgia to stir within my person.

 

               A crisp autumn day. The leaves have all left their homes and lie on the ground, single. Carriages are facing away from this old house. The breeze swooshes by slowly, carrying the scent of freezing rain. The clouds hang so low that their humidity stuffs my ears and chokes my eyes.  Suddenly, I can sense that darkness is imminent and I must venture indoors before the temperature drops considerably. Clasped hands, short smirks, and loving eyes are exchanged between my hero and I. Indoors we advance.

 

© 2011 heavvur


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Added on February 7, 2011
Last Updated on February 7, 2011

Author

heavvur
heavvur

VA



About
let's see. i'm insane. :) i write poetry. i'm a musician, an actress, a dancer. i love jesus. my poetry is all inspired by actual events. i love the writing styles of emily dickinson and sylvia pl.. more..

Writing
safe. safe.

A Poem by heavvur