A Misty Mourning

I'd walked this route a thousand times before
a short-cut taken, to reach my front door
down the narrow path
aside the quaint old church yard.
A putrid smell, a dank atmosphere,
a heavy mist descended
blanketing familiar surrounds
in a veil of silvery whiteness.
Eerie shadows began to float, then elope...
The intermittent density
induced illusions...
Figments clung to tombstones
A stray branch startled,
tapping me on the shoulder
like long knobbly fingers
as tree trunks formed eyes, sunken,
as I strained to see
in this delusional Mist-ery
An icy chill, yet warm breath
on the back of my neck...
heightened senses, shackles rising
a presence of death
a Soul uprising?
tree boughs hanging low
like heads in shame -
as if they know...
of familiar confessions
an evil force, messaging,
penetrating its static between spheres
unworldly.
A rustle, slight muffle, deep growling
so close to my ear
turning quickly, nothing visible,
adrenaline pumping fear
something so dark, prowling,
Four footsteps echo
the haunting doom
then sombre silence.
A sudden frenzy of whipping winds
lifted me off my feet, thrown,
head slamming the concrete
ice-cold stone.
Warm ruby rivers flow and enrobe...
drifting in and out of consciousness
the cries, and distant moans
were thine?
Another misty mourning
as sinister 'darkness' in the grave yard
is left to lurk and roam...

D.C.M