Journey To a Crematorium

Let me tell you a story on a midnight journey, To a crematorium, through an undergrowth ferny; At my age between sixteen to seventeen, In nineteen seventy eight; with a dusky scene; A time, when, young and old of our villages did boast, Telling prevalent stories on terrifying ghosts; Experienced elderly men and women narrated them in such a way, That, children sat stunned and did silently stay; Often the narrations were suspenseful and fear-filled, Listeners, often, cuddled together; thrilled and chilled; As though following the footsteps of the elders, The younger generation carried them out with added wonders; Impulsively adapting these oral folk lore, Interestingly shocking their peers when they did feel bore... Mine started, this time, as a challenge among us, youth. Much before, in our mouths, the emergence of the wisdom tooth; The eldest among us (a self-styled leader), did announce, Cash-price of rupees five (which was big, then) to renounce; To anyone who could visit the secretive crematorium, Twelve at night, and come back through the dilapidated sanatorium; Physically and psychologically unaffected absolutely, All others would follow him (hidden, certainly) and mutely; To make sure that the one took up this challenge, tough, Accomplished it with no possible cheating and bluff... I, neither the eldest nor the youngest, Neither the most courageous nor the dullest; Took up the challenge (though within trembling), Commenced my journey, strength assembling; I found the whole group following me at the start, Though I could find none at a typically terrifying part; Accumulating courage within, as though ready to do-or-die, I proceeded with my journey, and reached the spot, so dry... It's, then, a vague thought seemed appearing in me suddenly, What, if the challenger said, you had never reached with subtlety, The exact spot I was challenging you about, (So to say, I had cheated him; hence, from contest dropped out); It's, hence, I had picked up one of the skulls, old, Out of many which were scattered around like calcium mold; And walked back (God alone knew how) with, absolutely no fear, And reached the point, where I had started from, with cheer; Placed it in front of the troop that awaited, curiosity-painted, Lo, the challenger, seeing the frightening skull, got fainted...! 20 April 2022 Form N - Narrative - New Poems Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Constance La France Theme: Journey