A Stone Passage to a Circular Stairway
I descend the stairway; my finger tips seek the wall,
The nerve endings discharge my potency,
My mettle seeps through the cold and porous stone,
Fingernails scuff the crumbling slabs,
My dream of escape crushed by the dank smell,
What heinous fate awaits me?
A ray of sunshine through the loophole,
Warmth, Life, a return to the Living,
I must make that journey into the Darkness,
If I am to have any chance of flight,
It is worse than Hell, where can it end?
The Sun, The Sun, it will give me warmth on my return;
My foot moves, and I take another step.
The scabrous mortar causes the stairway to crumble,
I stumble forward and pitch head first into the circular wall.
A disturbed arachnid leaves his mossy lair,
The Passage Way, the smell of Earth and Fear,
I cannot see and my fearfulness rises to a Crescendo,
My heart beats; the blood in my ears pounds;
Tears run from my eyes.
I must continue. I must see him. The Devil or worse.
I step forward; the Circular Stairway a spectre,
I am fearful; the graveyard inert and long ago abandoned,
Evidently fresh soil has been exhumed,
The Chapel is derelict, it’s fabric untended,
Where are the Christians now!
Oh God why have thou forsaken this spot?
Surely it was once hallowed ground;
Desecration, death and an unholy dread fills me,
I retreat into self pity,
O God why have thou forsaken me!
I cannot bear this ghastly torment:
I behold the ancient vaults. There are three stairways.
I must not go back, I must look and witness whatever is there,
Boxes, Boxes of fresh earth and fragments of old coffins,
The Count, The Count.
I stare in Horror for he is neither dead nor alive,
Lying on a mound of Fresh Earth.
There is no breath or heartbeat, but a faint odour of fresh blood,
The contrasting vigour of his face and his deathly pallor,
Those eyes , Those eyes. Open and Questioning,
The Red Ruby Labia curl around the protruding canine teeth,
Saliva and dried blood stain the monsters mouth,
I cannot bear to touch him; the thought is unbearable,
I cannot bear to search his body for the key,
The key that will allow me to leave my prison room.
The eyes remain staring upwards;
This is my moment. I reach down. The Count’s eyes turn and look directly at me.
I fail and run towards the window,
I care not if I fall, for true Death would be a rescue ,
I climb and remember no more:
I wake in my prison bed knowing Night will bring him to me.
thenotsomightyom 