Just a child at only thirteen
Saw a slasher on the big screen.
I went back home and tried to glean
Facts from the books upon my jeans.
In the attic, lightly scratching,
Tiny birds that were just hatching,
Tiny bugs the mice are catching,
Or perhaps a rat that’s thatching?
In the attic, something creeping.
Down below, my heart is beating
Faster time it is now keeping
As it wishes I were sleeping.
In the attic, something stumbles.
Nerves of steel begin to crumble
As my psyche is surely humbled.
From my chair, my books I fumble.
On my feet I tried to run from
What above could doom my outcome.
Crossed the street and found a dear chum.
Tried to speak, but found I was dumb.
When I could speak I then relayed
The story why I was afraid.
We gathered neighbors, planned a raid.
The attic creature must be slayed.
Gathered bats we used for baseball.
On our heads there fell a dark pall.
Crossed the street, now well past nightfall,
Moving slower than a curveball.
Through the front door we were crawling.
To the creature, loudly calling.
No! The attic door had fallen.
Now our skin, it too was crawling.
Now back home and in the driveway
My folks thought they saw some horseplay.
Then, of course, they tried to downplay
What we told them of the foul play.
‘cross the fence the creature scurried.
Each of us became quite flurried.
With evasions my folks hurried
‘cause they did not want us worried.
This is not an allegory.
Take it as admonitory.
So the moral of the story
Is to shun films that are gory.