A slightly modified horror sonnet

Tis the season!

The laughter came from beneath our cold feet,

Our rasping stairs brought us to dusty tiles,

In the grime naked footprints charged with heat,

Our fearful eyes led us to gleaming smiles.

Misshapen canines glinted in low light,

We called out asking who are what they were,

They only would say that they were the blight,

What had we done that their cruel grudge could spur?

My husband began trembling, confessing,

I had not known of his sins and I froze,

Then vile fangs began advancing, pressing,

I stayed in place as he rose his death throws.

The gnashing died down, smiles retreating then

I began following in their wake, when

I became just bone entering their glen.

(Prompt by me)

"1930s basement" by Woodford Yang

Comments

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