Poem by Jensen T,
Class of 2020
It is nighttime.
The house is quiet.
I cannot hear the deep and rhythmic breathing
of my sister in the next room.
Nor the snoring of my father across the hall.
Not even the ticking of nails scratching the finished floor of the hall
as the dog paces through the night.
The house is empty.
I am alone.
Then – a creak.
The whispering wind rushes through an open door.
I am no longer alone.
Boots stomp up the stairs,
shattering the unearthly silence.
One by one every door opens, and in time slams,
until the last door has closed.
More silence follows, silence so unnerving
that I am chilled to the bone.
Footsteps pound closer, and closer, and closer
towards my door.
I draw in one breath – and the footsteps abruptly stop.
One more silence,
and I am frozen.
I cannot move.
I cannot breathe.
The doorknob is turning slowly.
Class of 2020
It is nighttime.
The house is quiet.
I cannot hear the deep and rhythmic breathing
of my sister in the next room.
Nor the snoring of my father across the hall.
Not even the ticking of nails scratching the finished floor of the hall
as the dog paces through the night.
The house is empty.
I am alone.
Then – a creak.
The whispering wind rushes through an open door.
I am no longer alone.
Boots stomp up the stairs,
shattering the unearthly silence.
One by one every door opens, and in time slams,
until the last door has closed.
More silence follows, silence so unnerving
that I am chilled to the bone.
Footsteps pound closer, and closer, and closer
towards my door.
I draw in one breath – and the footsteps abruptly stop.
One more silence,
and I am frozen.
I cannot move.
I cannot breathe.
The doorknob is turning slowly.