The Serpent in the PoolA Poem by David Lewis PagetWhen
first we moved on into the house They
said that we wouldn’t last, The
locals told us nobody had Of
the many who’d left in the past. We
asked if the house was haunted, but They
said that it’s not, ‘It’s cool!’ The
reason nobody stayed, they said, Was
the serpent that lived in the pool. The
‘pool’ it seemed was the small lagoon That
was not so far from the house, ‘You’ll
notice that there’s never a rat, You’ll
not see a single mouse!’ It
seems the serpent came out at night And
fed on the rodents there, ‘You’d
better keep all the windows shut, And
jam the doors with a chair.’ We
settled in and we laughed at that, ‘They
must believe I’m a fool! I
haven’t found anyone out there yet Who
has seen this thing in the pool. It’s
only a superstition, something Handed
down from the past, They
love to shiver and peddle gloom In
the hopes we’ll be aghast.’ We
sauntered down and we took it in, The
water was calm and still, And
willows, myrtles and evergreens Were
set in this sweet idyll, ‘I
think that I’m going to love it here, It’s
peaceful and quiet,’ said Cass, I
didn’t mention the snaking trail That
I’d noticed, deep in the grass. She
questioned me when I barred the doors, And
shut all the windows tight, ‘You’re
not afraid of the serpent, Jack?’ She
laughed, and I said ‘Not quite! There’s
gnats about in the midnight air And
I don’t want them in here.’ She
laughed again, ‘That’s a good excuse, I’m
sure to believe you, dear!’ Cass
would sleep like a log each night, Would
sleep ‘til the break of day, But
I would wake to the slightest scrape, To
a Hoot-Owl, hunting its prey. I
heard a sound on the patio Like
something slithering there, A
tapping sound on the window pane And
the movement of a chair. It
got to the point I couldn’t sleep, I’d
lie there, listening, Awake
to the slightest sound out there, The
barest rustling, I’d
keep a shovel beside the door Get
up, and sit in fright, Holding
my breath, and waiting for Its
visit, every night. I
opened the door one moonless night And
the monster slithered in, A
forked tongue flickering out in front And
cold eyes full of sin, I
slammed the shovel down on its neck And
the head just fell away, While
the rest just coiled through the open door And
the blood came out in a spray. I
must have got it all over me So
I should have washed my hands, But
somehow, some of the serpent’s blood Got
over the pots and pans, I
dumped the body out in the woods Hid
deep in the winter grass, Then
cooked a breakfast fit for a Queen For
the love of my lady, Cass. I
should have known about serpent’s blood I
should have been more than wise, For
Voodoo tells us that serpent’s blood Will
make you grow snakes inside, So
Cass came down with a fever then And
she moaned and cried, ‘Enough!’ She
said, ‘There’s something a-move in there, That’s
slithering round my gut.’ I
tended her for a week or more Put
a cold compress on her brow, Trying
to get her fever down, I
wouldn’t have done that now; The
seventh morning I checked on her And
she called out, ‘Don’t come in!’ I
saw her there on the bedroom floor, She’d
slithered out of her skin. I
stepped aside as she tried to slide On
out through the open door, She
moved like a snake, covered in scales, I
watched her in shock, and awe, She
slithered down to the old lagoon And
disappeared in the reeds, And
that was the last I saw of Cass I
swear, and my heart, it bleeds. They’ve
got me locked in a prison cell As
they think I’ve done her in, They
went to look why she wasn’t there But
they only found her skin, They
think I’m some sort of monster That
I’m mad, or merely a fool, I
keep on saying they’ll find her, She’s
a serpent, down in the pool. David
Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
666 Views
17 Reviews Added on August 4, 2013 Last Updated on August 12, 2013 Tags: haunted, lagoon, slithering, shovel Author
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|