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We have all heard of mystical occurrences. These are incomprehensible happenings that always seem to befall upon someone else. For that reason you may tend to embrace these episodes with a “tongue in cheek” attitude. I cannot cite odds, but I would not rule out chances of a happening seeking you out, in your lifetime.


Magic Slate


Attics intrigue me; like progress in reverse.

When I enter an attic, life becomes converse.

Years ago, I helped an eccentric Aunt,

Remove many boxes; with others to supplant.


Among items stored, where the roof slants low,

Was a black-board, and chalk that would glow.

I held the chalk, it felt vibrant to touch.

It was only a notion, it didn’t amount to much.


Reaching for its box, with symbols of blue,

I scraped the slate, and broke the chalk in two.

Falling backward, I couldn’t believe my ears;

A faint scream arose, causing clandestine fears.


That attic was warm, yet chills caressed my skin.

Emerging from the box, a form ghastly thin.

Hovered before me, like a wisp of smoke;

I could not believe, it had to be a joke.


Petrified... I was rooted, ttoo afraid to move.

That specter toyed with me, I did not approve.

Shaking hands betrayed me, I reached for the slate.

I wanted to leave, but it was too late.


The mark on the board I rubbed it with my sleeve.

Came a rasping sound, I refused to believe.

I printed C-A-T, the first thought to my mind;

A cat-like purring, sounded from behind.


An apparition appeared in feeble light.

Into view came a panther, as black as night.

Slowly it crouched, golden eyes glared steady,

Something fearful happened and I wasn’t ready.


It charged and leapt, I couldn’t contemplate,

I crouched in fear, brushing C-A-T from the slate.

Lying on my back, sweat beading my face,

Searching for the creature, I saw nary a trace.


Then came creaking on stairs, I hid the board.

To be caught meddling, I could not afford.

In the open doorway, at the end of the room,

Stood my Auntie, peering into the gloom.


“Is there trouble Nephew?” She inquired of me.

“I heard strange noises, I came up to see.”

“No, Auntie. . . I stumbled and fell,

I lifted too much, I’m OK, everything is well.”


I noticed then, what she cradled in her arm.

A cat with glowing eyes, snuggled from harm.

Auntie approached, it uttered a hiss.

Then lashed out at me, with a deliberate miss.


“Nero, I taught you better than that”

“Sure,” I thought, “but he is not an ordinary cat.”

I sensed his thoughts, we had met before.

His low growl, avowed we would meet once more.


He dropped to the floor, and scurried below,

I brushed myself, hoping emotions did not show.

“Please be careful Nephew, don’t get hurt,

and. . . there is a spot like chalk dust on your shirt.”


Auntie turned, moving toward glow of light,

She gave no hint, that something wasn't right.

She Lingered at the stairway, then disappeared below,

Saying nothing more to me, but... did she already know?


(To be continued. . . maybe)


YarnSpinner

Copyright 2014


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  • 1 month later...
poetjohncompton

Oh I want the more of it! It was a great read and you did wonderful in flow!

That is a grand chalkboard! Your poem is clever and good. I loved the description and imagery!

I could see very clearly the all of it - like I was you in that attic!

 

I want more! I'm starving for your poetry!

 

Sort that I have not commented sooner!

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  • 2 weeks later...

As I would have posted on my gravestone...

 

"Because You knew me, I was...

To say anything more,

would make no difference."

 

Maybe you should ask that question of Mr. Poetry

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