Categories > Original > Poetry
Horror
0 ReviewsSometimes abandoned warehouses should remain abandoned... Rating PG-13 for implied gore, if that makes any sense.
In an abandoned warehouse,
A girl stands,
Listening to the dark.
She hears a steady
Drip. Drip.
She smells a tangy scent within the darkness.
The girl peers into the shadows,
Where they darken.
She cautiously reaches a hand blindly into the blackness,
And hits
Cold, clammy flesh.
Goosebumps run up her arms as she
Picks up her flashlight
And flicks it on.
She directs the beam of light
Into the shadows....
And screams.
--
A/N: Wow, this is one of those that goes WAY back. It's from a poetry book I had to put together in the sixth grade (that'd be... hm... about four and a half years ago?), which freaked my teacher out quite a bit. Before people start jumping on me about smells, I had been imagining a relatively fresh corpse when I wrote it, since I've been told that it should've been a rotting smell, not a tangy one. But, either way.
Reviews = love. And thanks for reading!
A girl stands,
Listening to the dark.
She hears a steady
Drip. Drip.
She smells a tangy scent within the darkness.
The girl peers into the shadows,
Where they darken.
She cautiously reaches a hand blindly into the blackness,
And hits
Cold, clammy flesh.
Goosebumps run up her arms as she
Picks up her flashlight
And flicks it on.
She directs the beam of light
Into the shadows....
And screams.
--
A/N: Wow, this is one of those that goes WAY back. It's from a poetry book I had to put together in the sixth grade (that'd be... hm... about four and a half years ago?), which freaked my teacher out quite a bit. Before people start jumping on me about smells, I had been imagining a relatively fresh corpse when I wrote it, since I've been told that it should've been a rotting smell, not a tangy one. But, either way.
Reviews = love. And thanks for reading!
Log in to rate and review this story