by, Hugh A Tague
The blood red harvest moon shone through
the sparse Autumn treetops, chasing away
a fast moving thunderstorm. The cold
October wind blew down the quiet lane
making leaves dance, like spirits on the run.
A porch light set a warm glow on a jug of cider
placed next to a plate of candied apples.
A scarecrow stuffed with hay, stood sentry on the stoop
as a jack-o-lantern flickered the darkness
away from the walk.
Backlit by the streetlight, little witches, ghosts and goblins
cast elongated shadows. The sound of children laughing
echoed on the breeze, as they meandered up the street.
A ferocious storm shook the town many years ago.
Under the cover of darkness, a fugitive
slipped away from his confines.
Nothing that is good will come this night.
His vision clouded by evil, the escapee sped down the hill
like a runaway train, obliterating three very young trick-or-treaters, then crashing into the light pole, his life too ended just as swiftly as his victim’s.
The ground began to rumble as a powerful wind roared past,
and a wicked silence fell upon the lane. The moon’s light
washed the darkness away from the house
with the festive porch, revealing that it has actually
been long abandoned. The children had lived in that house.
Their parents unable to survive just feet away
from the place they perished, simply left,
never to return again.
All for a freedom that lasted but a splinter of time.
The killer’s soul now condemned to exist only in shadows,
tortured and twisted by the guilt of my sins,
yes my sins, it was me,
it was I who extinguished their lights
it was I, that ended their lives.
Every year since, on all hallows eve
I must look upon what I have done. I must relive it
over and over again. Because I have deprived
so many of so much, my spirit remains
My regret and sentence eternal,
by the shadows of that dark and evil Halloween night
I shall continue to be…