Adapted from a short story.
(Adapted from a short story we're both working on)
Letters In The Attic by Robert Brian Newbill and Theresa Cecilia Garcia
Part One: The Haunting
(Adapted from a short story we're both working on)
"Come and stay with me."
There was an urgency in her voice.
Impetuously
I brushed aside every objection
and accepted the invitation.
She spoke of things I dare not whisper
in the blackest of nights.
I could tell you certain things
that would convince you
I was a haunted man,
a man who had seen hell.
Yet, I will tell you instead
that she aroused my composure
and challenged by moral sensibilities,
a charming spirit
as has ever been incarnate.
I was thinking of her face,
but I said nothing.
It was quite placid,
devoid of all expression and life behind it.
Suddenly,
I began to cough uncontrollably,
blood rising from my lungs
spurting out of my mouth.
The bronchitis had my face streaming
with a cold sweat
and breath that came and went
in deep rasping gasps.
"I am going mad for want of your company."
The room smelt of Sandwood
and Eucalyptus cleansing oils.
Heart shuddering and satiated
by an unquenchable fire,
I sat straight up on the bed
and looked into the face of a woman,
a face that was not human.
My fingers crumpled the surface of the sheets
vehemently
as I drew her closer.
A moment of hideous yells echoed ,
and drawing a long breath I awoke
to the site of my loving wife
gazing blankly at me
as the knife in my hand threatened
to plunge down her chest.
The night of our wedding
and I had no conception of who I was
other than a ruined man
in body and in soul.
Poetry by TheresaCecilia
Read 487 times
Written on 2006-04-09 at 09:00
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Letters In the Attic
Part One: The Haunting(Adapted from a short story we're both working on)
Letters In The Attic by Robert Brian Newbill and Theresa Cecilia Garcia
Part One: The Haunting
(Adapted from a short story we're both working on)
"Come and stay with me."
There was an urgency in her voice.
Impetuously
I brushed aside every objection
and accepted the invitation.
She spoke of things I dare not whisper
in the blackest of nights.
I could tell you certain things
that would convince you
I was a haunted man,
a man who had seen hell.
Yet, I will tell you instead
that she aroused my composure
and challenged by moral sensibilities,
a charming spirit
as has ever been incarnate.
I was thinking of her face,
but I said nothing.
It was quite placid,
devoid of all expression and life behind it.
Suddenly,
I began to cough uncontrollably,
blood rising from my lungs
spurting out of my mouth.
The bronchitis had my face streaming
with a cold sweat
and breath that came and went
in deep rasping gasps.
"I am going mad for want of your company."
The room smelt of Sandwood
and Eucalyptus cleansing oils.
Heart shuddering and satiated
by an unquenchable fire,
I sat straight up on the bed
and looked into the face of a woman,
a face that was not human.
My fingers crumpled the surface of the sheets
vehemently
as I drew her closer.
A moment of hideous yells echoed ,
and drawing a long breath I awoke
to the site of my loving wife
gazing blankly at me
as the knife in my hand threatened
to plunge down her chest.
The night of our wedding
and I had no conception of who I was
other than a ruined man
in body and in soul.
Poetry by TheresaCecilia
Read 487 times
Written on 2006-04-09 at 09:00
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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