The Whispers in the Walls

Lovecraft taught me that fear of the unknown is universal. Poe taught me the most evil hides behind a human face. King is inspired by both.

The Whispers in the Walls 

By

Carlos Lorenzo Estrada 

"The devil's voice is sweet to hear." - Stephen King 

In the silence of the night

it makes its presence known 

Scratching, crawling,  moaning sounds

that haunt us all alone 

It moves along the ceiling roof 

and deep inside the walls 

Claws against the windowsill 

just as darkness falls 

It speaks to us in whispers 

and calls us all by name 

Seeks to choke the life from us

and drive our minds insane 

Its fingers run along our spine 

as we lie asleep 

Scurries down below the sheets 

across the floor it creeps 

Yet blind to view we know its there 

lingering closely by 

A figure in the night that knows 

it can't be seen by eye 

For in the twilight of the dark 

these voices come to call 

And murmur abhorrent secrets 

             to the shadows in us all...

Author's Note

True story: years ago I worked for a security company at a winery. The hours were horrible because I worked graveyard. To make things worse there was a cemetery located next door. One night about 3 am I heard what sounded like a cat walking along this strip of back road where this winery was located. There was a moon out so I could see past the small guard house beyond the parking lot towards the road. Across the street was a field of grape vines that stretched for miles. As I looked out from the main window I couldn't see this animal crossing by but could hear its meow 50 ft ahead. It cried in intervals of about ten seconds. And sounded as if moving across the path of the road toward the graveyard. As the sound got in the direction straight across from me it stopped for a full minute. And what sounded like a cat's high pitch meow turned into a gravely voice that said...help me. I closed the windows locked the door and hid below the counter top turned of the one light as well. I stayed there shivering till the sun finally broke. I quit the next day and never went back. I just remember that voice continuing to cry like a cat as it moved slowly down the road until I couldn't hear it anymore. Though I still do in my dreams.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I believe there are many unknown things left and I believe. None are good. The old spirits are looking for something. In my lifetime. I explored places of death. The quiet voices are seeking. Hello Carlos. I did enjoy this tale.
Coyote

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

Thank you CP. I actually had to go back and reformat the poem because the font wasn't allowing the words to the poem to be seen. Hopefully now everyone can now see the actual poem itself. Thank you again.

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is amazing Carlos. Like a secret whisper in the night and you are welcome my friend.