On A Walk

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Contributor: J.R. Night

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In autumn, when all is rotten, the winds fall
To spill the streets and summon sounds
one wouldn’t like to hear at all.

I walk and know
They hide, holding knives.
I hear my shriek, and realize
I made the wrong turn.
I’m far from home.

I quicken, clothes billowing and picture
From the shadows a nightmare’s hand shoot out
But instead they say things, whisper little secrets of mine.
Memories long thrown a blanket on
In the dead of night, now I run, hear the shriveled crunch
of those that couldn’t quite
hold on, but I go on, wipe the sweat from my brow
They’re faster, gaining on me now.
crunching louder, feet flying, flying, flying.
How I wish I could fly.

I cut the street, puff of a passing bus,
and all of a sudden
I hear nothing then
a high-pitched scream exits my body.
I catch my reflection, but no matter
I continue to scream, still long after.

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J.R. Night is a recent graduate from The University of Maryland. He likes to write, draw, and exercise, all of which leave him breathless and annoyed.


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