2 of 91

Write now Article Tools

It was early evening
on the autumn day that
while out walking my dog
I met the Ghost of Monchat

The sun had just lowered
neath the mountainous scape
the honey-pink glow filtering
and flitting on my necks' nape.

When all in a moment
light's tingle joined by cold
appeared a tall creature
from two trees' twisted fold.

'Ware' he cried, voice cracked
with death.
'Leave this place!' he rasped,
stopping my breath.

His bones splintered by worms
His clothes tattered, torn
His teeth clacking angrily
His shape a dark form.

The Ghost of Monchat stalked
me, as I, all in a rush
fled from those haunted woods,
steps breaking the hush
of evening under trees
with leaves shadowed, lush.

And the voice of that specter
sent tingles down my spine
as under the cold moon
I fled that strange sign.

'Ware the cold, half-moon night!
Under oaks' spreading gaze!
In early autumn's night
At the trees' twisted place!
For if you venture back
YOU WILL FEEL MY EMBRACE!'

Learn more about this author, Jared Garrett.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Walking in the woods?
We want to hear your view. Write now!