Work in progress.

Here's a few lines from the horror poem I'm working on. It is going to be a cross between a novella and a poem . . .

I.

be quiet,

he told

himself,

don’t let

it become

too loud.

his heart contracted.

his heart pumped.

they will

hear you

from the

darkness

where

the

beat

of your

heart

is but

a distant

memory.

be quiet -

let them

pass.

maybe they

won’t notice you.

maybe they

won’t hear you scream

as they draw near.

maybe you’ll

be spared

just this once

so next time

you can repeat

the fear

and hope

they won’t

hear

the screams that

carry within you.