The Crooked HouseA Poem by ZoyaMy hands are cold, my face is bruised, My clothes and shoes are torn. As I have reached yet so far, On the way that i had sworn. Carrying only a drawing of, A crooked house that i made. After my dreams tested my patience, Showing me this house, nightly, to locate. I had the feeling as if, There was something for me in there. Thousands of voices calling out my name, The house might make me a millionaire! I stand there with the drawing in my hand, Raised up to meet my eye-level. As I lower my hand to look around, The sight of the same house gives me a tremble. Each step gets me closer to the house, The same voices filling my ears. My hands shake as i open the iron gates, I deem my end is near. I find myself lucky enough, To be alive while entering the house. For I just had a near escape, From the gates that were forcing me out. And as I enter the house, The darkness of hell surrounds me. I pull myself together and continue moving, Towards a streak of light which I see. I finally reach the room from where, The streak of light seems to come. Standing at the door in utter disbelief, Is my reaction to the sight of my dead dad and mum. Dressed all in white, glowing from head to toe, They take a step in my direction. I feel scared and try to move back, But I'm held in place due to their affection An inch away from me they stand, Looking just like angels from Heaven. I vaguely remember their faces for, They left when i was barely seven. In no time my mother starts talking, In an eerie voice I've never heard. The lines she says, leave me in confusion, Since they contain the following words: "Darling! Good to see you after a long time, You haven't even changed a bit. Audacious enough to have reached this house, The only thing you lack is wit. Oh, I hope you haven't forgotten about, The warning we gave you before leaving for this house. In greed we set off with some empty bags, At night when you just began to drowse. We shook you to senses and said: "We're going to leave you alone for sometime, Don't worry, 'cause when we return, You'll no longer wear these clothes of grime. In case we don't return, Within the next ten days, Beware of a crooked house that might, Lure you into searching for its way." Now my father begins-''Oh dear, it seems as if, You were half-asleep when we warned you. In greed and hunger you've reached here, What will happen next, you haven't got a clue." He barely finishes the sentence, When two hands grab my foot from behind. They pull me down and take me away from my parents, Who ignore me and stand there as blinds. After, what it seems, a year I open my eyes, To find myself lying on a huge bed. I see my ghostly parents and beg them to spare me, When they say in a frightening whisper-"Baby, you're already dead." © 2018 ZoyaAuthor's Note
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Added on January 18, 2017Last Updated on March 29, 2018 Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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