Dark Wishes

Now even though it does not APPEAR to be poetry it is written as such, you must look carefully if you desire to see what I mean.

Skeleton fingers of deep oak hue scraped the old window of the ancient front room, hanging low and bowed, struck by lightning to many times to count, the perfect tree for thy beautiful bride to be.

Wind dragged fallen leaves of distorted yellows, orange and brown down the winding gravel drive which had turned to a sink pit in this howling storm of fright.

The yard was littered with ancient angels, eyes cast toward the sky, moss and vines of sickly green weaving higher and higher, over their stone eyes, t'was a full moon this night, the devious stone of silver hidden behind the clouds of angry skies.

Darkness, it shrouded the evening, bathing it in shadows of fright as the storm tore at the seems of the Victorian house, six miles from the nearest village, first creeky aged black fence to the right.

" Happy Birthday to you.."

The wind drowned out all of the night, but when one brought their focuse through the open window, near the chipping red door, all the way to the right, that creeper may hear a voice of wicked delight.

" Happy Birthday to you.."

A voice that haunted like the strings of a violin, whispered like the voices of the long since dead, a feminine voice one filled with distance and leaving others with a feeling of dread.

Warming the interior of dark misshapen halls, candles with an amber glow began to light upon the walls, throwing shadows ever which turn, turning this house of nothing but void, to a demons den of cruel laughter and sick joy.

Whispering upon a dirt collected rug, stained with age and with a substance identified only through the rust iron scent as blood, a woman clad from toe to head in shadows that hung from a skeleton figure of the dead.

Dark robes of a midnight skirt, layered and coated with cobwebs and dirt, brushed the dust as it swept along by, feet never truly touching the earth. Face unrevieled, hiden by black, the woman moved slowly this way and that.

As if she had all of eternity, one by one haunting candles were lit, time crawled to a slow, the world spun to a stop with the sound of a hiss.

" Happy Birthday dear Elyse,

As if breached by the howling storm the candles burst into nothingness the house falling dark, the storm stilled to an absolute stop, frozen long enough for the voice of the ghost to whisper.

" Happy Birthday to you."

Author's Note

This was wrote for a birthday surprise to be clear with you my dear ones. Please take your time, rip it apart if you wish, I do not mind with this one, for the only opinion that matters is the friend whom I have wrote this form