Spirit of Falls

Spirit of Falls

Brenna Eller

In a middle of nowhere borough, living up to its name,

homes once glowing die out, the extinguished flames,

father’s tears replenish, as mother’s heart mourns so,

Evermore, the town of Wicker Falls begins to let go.

The convicted locked away, murderer in defeat,

darkness stretches its fingers toward rays of heat,

a groundbreaking case lasting a few years,

file closed, a village overcoming its fears.

Eyes glint with giddiness once again,

trying to restore what was broken by sin,

reverting to old ways, the people of “Falls”,

losing sense of caution, ignoring protocols.

They don’t recall how I came to pass,

how a life can wither away so fast,

I know. I was the one captured by him,

the gloomy Monday I fell victim.

They think Lucifer is still in Hell,

oblivious to danger, under his spell,

he lives amongst them, more deceitful,

conniving fox who caused such evil.

The hint of mint wafting from the cafe,

brings me to that wretched last day,

when he stole my last breath,

gave me cold earth, kissed with death.

Mint floated on the muggy morning,

disregarding my instinct’s warning,

a smell guided me, I couldn’t see,

mourning doves echoed in the trees,

barely seeing him, so clever and sly,

his fool-proof sticky trap left for the fly,

struck from behind without time to fight,

my head filled with kaleidoscope sight.

Reality claims my eyes to see,

ahead a figure daunting as can be,

panic swells as cold blood boils,

at the sight, my body recoils.

I scream at them, It’s him, it has to be!

I beg them to beware and stay clear

but screams are silent for spirits like me.

untitled - Charlie Pott