Power Cut
Lightning flashes outside,
The only source of electricity
Giving a glimpse of demented shadows
Dancing on the wall
Temperature drops
The dark winter’s night descends
The fire in the hearth
Does little to warm the chill of the air
Darkness befalls the room
Eyes struggle to adjust
Specters tease in my peripheral vision
Avoiding my line of sight
Firelight shadows flicker
Stoking my imagination
Pulse accelerates
To a rapid beat
The shadows, they grow
They grow ever larger
Menacingly towering over me
Moving in to devour my very soul
I’m sure it’s my imagination
Yes, I am almost certain it is
Almost
Copyright © Gary Wayne Hill | Year Posted 2013
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