HAUNTED TALE

Andys lungs grappled
for more air
his feet reaching an
incline jagged mountain
past crunching twigs that
snapped open
his hearing.

Dark clouds gathered
in the sky, plotting their
attack on the land below.

He had heard old mysterious
tales in town for years now
about this haunted shack

bones been found and
brains splattered not far
from were he lived.

It made his mind pour
with curiosity and
dark mystery. But
recently

Folks in town were
going
missing and even the
sheriffs star badge rattled
to take action. His

Men guarded the
borders now
and ratted on doors
with curious
fists.

But they were only
met with rumours
and pointed fingers.

The hut looked like rotten
skin covered in moss
and knarly trees were armed
as sharp
as harpoons they loomed
caped in a smokey hue

The cold barbed into
his skin and wind toyed
with his body and then
hurled dust in
his face trying to blind him.

Andy was close his
eyes pinched and
his arm barriered
the oncoming attack.

His torch cutting open
the darkness

Finally his trembling hand
reached the rotten battered
door.

Warped voices flew at him with rage
and torment. A few deep
breaths, pauses, his shoulder
busted the stubborn entry.

His eyes were covered in terror
his nose and gut stuffed with death.
It burped with decayness, spoiled
flesh.

He spun quickly to escape but the
door decided to slam, bolting
him inside. Making his jaw fall

and eyes turn to full moons. His
face highlighted, back sucked

to the weathered door. His
mind was torn open and
injected with floods of
nightmares then sowed
back up with blood stitches.

His skin started to peel off his
skull like wet soggy wallpaper.
Underneath the mask curtains
of dark blood were hidden.

A tug of his toungue was felt
then a tear making his
face scrunch up in an explosion
of pain, it felt to him like a pair of
heavy
duty pliers yanking in frustration.
Blasts of blood blew from his throat

A supernatural luminous cone
ripped open the rubble below
and sucked
in Andys body like a vaccum.

His ribcage opened like haunted
whining gates,
and out came a glowing green
wind of warm mist and jetted
blood, soaked crimson meat

that was getting inhaled and thrown
into the phantasmic pit.

Sheer terror of screams
dashed out of the maw
then transmuted into
this deranged

Blasphemous of cackles.
Andy was, now vapour
floating around in a tomb
of hell and blackness.