Out of Time!A Poem by David Lewis PagetThe
Moon was rising, over the hill Along
with the evening star, They
lit the lane he was walking, ‘til He
could see the lights of a car, They
were headed up in the narrow lane So
he had to jump out wide, Then
it hurtled over the flowing rill, Rolled,
and lay on its side. He
stood in shock for a moment there Then
ran to do what he could, But
flames burst out of the tangled wreck At
the edge of McNalty’s Wood. He
heard a woman, screaming in pain Who
was trapped inside the car, But
the tank blew up, as he knew it would So
he watched it, from afar. The
door on top of the wreck flew up As
the air began to scorch, The
woman climbed from the burning wreck But
was lit like a flaming torch, She
stood engulfed for a moment there As
the flames devoured her hair, And
screamed, ‘I’m coming to get you, John, In
the dead of the night, beware!’ Then
all he saw was a staring skull As
the flesh peeled off the bone, The
body shuddered, and then collapsed As
he turned, and ran for home. His
heart was pounding a steady beat As
he ran, and stumbled there, The
voice that rang in his ears was shrill, ‘In
the dead of the night, beware!’ He
knew the woman, he knew the car And
a terror entered his soul, He’d
left her stood at the altar, while He
hid in his coward’s hole, He’d
packed his bag, and travelling things While
her father stood at the door, Loading
a pair of cartridges And
sworn to even the score. He’d
left the town in the dead of night Had
driven a hundred miles, Buried
himself in the countryside In
a shack called ‘Seven Dials’. There
were seven clocks in the tiny shack That
would tick and tock in turn, They
each were named for a crying shame And
the seventh clock was ‘Burn.’ The
first was named ‘Disloyalty’ And
the second ‘Coward’s Toll’, The
third had hands but a vacant face And
its name was ‘Empty Soul.’ The
fourth had written across its face A
single wording, ‘Scare!’ The
fifth was draped in a veil of lace With
the only word, ‘Despair.’ He
thought of stopping the ticking clocks But
they ticked on through the night, He’d
wake up drenched in a sweat, and when He
rose, his face was white, The
sixth clock hung in the kitchen, was The
only clock to chime, But
then would lock, the ticking stop While
the name said, ‘Out of time!’ He
lay low after the burning car Would
not go out for a week, He
locked the doors and the windows, Every
night, but took a peek, The
world outside by the darkened wood Was
a place to chill and scare, The
wind would whisper among the trees, ‘In
the dead of the night, beware!’ A
month went by, they buried the corpse That
they found by the burnt out car, He
thought he’d beaten the woman’s curse So
he left the door ajar, A
gale blew up and it swung the door Out
wide in the dead of night, And
a shape appeared in the doorway As
he woke in a sudden fright. She
seemed to shimmer while standing there In
a charred silk wedding dress, ‘You
didn’t think you’d escape me now That
you’ve left me such a mess,’ A
breeze had lifted her veil by then There
was just a moment’s lull, Then
he stared at her and she stared right back From
a charred and blackened skull. He
screamed as only a man can scream When
the terror eats his soul, A
flame burst out of the wedding dress And
devoured the woman whole, The
shack went up and the ticking stopped Of
the first six dials in turn, But
above the crackle of flames he heard That
last clock ticking, ‘Burn!’ David
Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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