Murder at Sleepy Hallow(A Halloween Story in Verse) (Re-Write)

‘T was a foggy night in late October,
Near the Northern Church, by the pale moonlight
I begin my suspenseful tale of horror,
That will churn your stomach with such a fright
There was an archaic cemetery
By the creepy town of Sleepy Hallow
‘T was here the setting of my spooky story;
By my bungalow I saw a shadow
Growing ever so large, dark and gory
I decided then I had to follow;

So, grabbing my lantern I tip-toed quietly,
In the early hours of the morn.
The moon was oh, so ghostly,
Casting strange shadows on my lawn.
The terrain was oh, so scary...
At the ungodly hours of the dawn
Three shadows crept in the cemetery
I bravely followed the ghostly trio
The old moon howled to the old sycamore tree...
‘Have you ever seen such a scenario?’

My blood froze as I saw one of the three
‘T was old man Steve, the old archaic caretaker
Wandering aimlessly throughout the tombstones
I watched in horror as the other two hooded figures
Desecrate the ancient catacombs.
Heaven knows what ungodly business
Drove them to this infamy near the old North Church,
But as I watched in horror, I confess
I saw a raven perched upon an old oak tree
Watching with its black glassy eye
Upon the surreptitious doings of the ghastly three

I shook when I heard the blood-curdling cries
Of the poor souls Ole man Steve buried alive,
Old man Steve dug their graves with wretched mad-men’s eyes,
The victims’ blood called for justice in one voice, collaborative.
Upon its branchy perch the raven shrieked Steve’s crime

A decade passed when on all Hollow’s Eve
There came a wrapping, tapping on the door
It was the Grim coming for old man Steve;
And with bony fingers, lifted Steve right off the floor.




His whole life flashed before him,
As the church bell echoed loudly its accusatory chime,
The spirits of his victims sang a solemn hymn;
The clock upon the church-tower announced the ungodly time
As the sickle swung to and fro…..
Steve let out a ghastly. Blood-curdling cry
The sickle swung with a sharp and mighty blow.
To this day and this very hour nobody knows for certain,
What became of Steve, the old geezer...




And I, in utter shock stood as witness
Blinded and traumatized by sheer horror
Gripped with fear I tremble and confess
That my blood curdled and turned sour,
The very hour when Steve’s guts had burst
And I heard the raven crow in mockery----
Upon midnight on October thirty-first.

The ghostly trio haunts the ancient cemetery
On this darkest night of all
Searching the ancient catacombs all aimlessly and weary
Searching high and low
For the head of Ole man Steve,
On this eerie, foggy All Hallows Eve.









Mary Aris (nee Gonzalez)  © Copyright, 1999--2008