There are worse things than hellish dreams,
Or so my doctor said.
It's comforting, or so it seems...
but now my doctor's dead.
We talked about my dreams and things,
The things that take my sleep.
What every night so gladly brings,
The things that twitch and creep.
I told him that the air got thick,
When I was up in bed.
Always use this little trick,
To know when they're ahead.
I heard them next, the sound of feet.
I took a peek outside.
They drag the bodies through the street.
It never helps to hide.
I moved out to my darkened hall,
But there is something there.
I saw its shape against the wall,
And smelled it on the air.
I had to light the rotting shape,
And touch the little switch.
Because I know there's no escape,
It's like a growing itch.
I know this monster far too well,
His skin is black and burned.
A twisted creature spawned in hell,
And here he has returned.
With stringy black and matted hair,
Across his bleeding skull.
His broken nose can't breathe the air,
His eyes are white and dull.
He's bent upon his bony knees,
With something in his grip.
I can't tell what it is he sees,
He brings it to his lip.
He holds a sheet of steaming skin.
Like paper, flat and rough.
He irons them, to keep them thin,
Or else they get all tough.
I watched him move his blackened tongue,
And taste the searing hide.
I heard his awful, punctured lung,
Emit a groan of pride.
He put the skin upon a stack,
Of other bloody meat.
He went to get his iron back,
And then he saw my feet.
His smoky eyes look up at me.
He bears his yellow smile.
I don't turn, or try to flee.
I watch him for a while.
He irons out another sheet,
Of skin as white as cream.
The skin, it blisters in the heat,
Rot rising up in steam.
I think these putrid ghoulish men,
Are meant to drive one mad.
A glance, a look, a stare, and then,
You are already had.
The mind will leave the mortal brain
And leave you incomplete
Tell me then, what will remain?
The answer? Only meat.
Author notes
Several notes with this one, as usual:
This one was a nightmare to edit. It was originally about twice as long, featuring a kind of frame narrative type thing of what happened to the doctor mentioned at the very beginning of the story. In terms of axed stanzas, this poem has the most I've ever had to cut. I think as a result it's way less focused than some of my other horror pieces, but there are a couple stanzas and images that I hope will justify this. I also think I had to settle on the simplest of 3 possible endings while editing this, but I suspect when I look back on this piece later I'll thank myself for it.
The Rotmen are kind of HP lovecraft-ish monsters that I've seen several times in my own dreams. The sequence with the iron in the hallway is actually straight from a dream of mine from several years ago. The idea is that just looking at them for long enough drives one insane, since they carry with them the crushing realizations of mortality and decay.
One thing I enjoyed about this was writing a horrible story from the point of view of someone who has experienced it many times. I like the idea of the narrator himself being unsurprised by all the horror around him (a very typical dream reaction) and giving "hot tips" for when the reader inevitably has their own brush with the Rotmen.
Any thoughts?
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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ooh Steven King-ish
I like it. I think you have done a very good job with this piece. I could not help but think of Steven King as I read this and then I read your comments on it and I understand totally if you need a night light at bedtime, just as the famous author does. I could see sitting around sharing this on a Halloween night.
Good job.
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wonderful
this poem is great for Halloween or any other season and it's so vivid like i'm watching a movie -
wow.
got me shakin in my boobs
well done, i'm definately gonna go and read what else you've done, i enjoyed this more than i can articulate.
thank you for sharing.
♥ Andi.
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Yeah, great for Halloween, but I like dark anywasy so I would read it no matter the season.
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Oh, wow! A perfect Halloween poem!
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Imagine my joy as allpoetry loaded and I saw that you had a new poem up.
You do so much with nightmares and general horror, yet each time you make it new and different, a great skill to have. This one reminded me a lot of a horror movie, I'm not sure if it was the narrator's casual tone, or the story itself. I loved the first stanza. It sucks the reader right in with the dry humor of it.
It seemed the tenses changes quite a few times when you got to the nightmare aspect of it. It may have been a purposeful effect though, because it sounds good regardless.
Nice job with this one. I'm sure later when my house is pitch black and my cats are creeping around outside my room I'll remember how creepy it was.
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Yeah I'm not entirely happy with this one, but the tense switching has nothing to do with it... With the way the story is being told (where the one Rotman in the hallway is a recurring character for the narrator), I think it's relatively natural for him to be switching tenses.
My next several ideas aren't horror related, so perhaps I'll take a break from nightmares for a while. Thanks for always being so supportive
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