He ascends the stairs once more
Following the familiar path
Counting another flight
Turning clockwise out of sight
The number does not matter
He has nowhere else to go
He follows the path’s bend
But the ascent does not end
He stands on another landing
A very brief respite
He considers refusing to go
But footsteps can be heard below
The briefest pause on the bottom step
But fear overtakes his resolve
A man follows the eternal flight
As he ascends, he comes back into sight
There is a booking tonight
An urn of coffee is heating
Biscuits are plated beautifully
But no one attends the meeting
There is some conversation
Like voices in the distance
Shadows move under the lights
But no attendees are in existence
No one recalls the appointment
The last to leave does not even glance
Just turns off lights in an empty room
Which are turned back on by unseen hands
They do not quite recall each other
Smiling at strangers each time they meet
Still, it is nice to see those who see them
and it will be just as nice the same time next week
I’m on holiday from tomorrow with friends, so no regular post on Saturday.
I am, however, organising a game of Jumanji for my friends to play using GURPS (the Generic Universal RolePlaying System), so I though you might enjoy the ominous couplets that I’m adding in!
This was inspired by the Film Reroll podcast, which I do recommend listening to if you get a chance. Just pick your favourite childhood movie and listen to a group of friends erect a joyous circus on its foundations.
You’re about to meet a new friend
With smile large enough for your entire head
A million stomachs in congregation
Will soon devour your foundation
Make a deal, make a bargain
Offer a gift and you may roll again
Some idols don’t want what’s best for you
Look into its eyes, see what it asks you to do
They grow so fragrant and bright
See if you can still take flight
Don’t worry about their poison
It’s venom that does you in
Try not to sleep just yet
You don’t know what you’ll forget
Reinforcements have arrived!
Only one round will they survive
It is so beautiful, so bright
Attractive to all in sight
You already knew you were in trouble
Hope you know how to avoid the rubble
A thousand now take flight
Watch out for their bite
There is someone at the front door
A helpful guest, I am sure
It’s all a bit messy – time to vanish
Choose one effect to banish
Of course you are not the first to play
Meet your predecessor, in a state of decay
There is a hall of mirrors somewhere
Not where it should be, but there all the same
It waits patiently to see who shall visit
who to reshape and remake in their gilded frames
A stranger now wanders amongst them
Reflected, elongated and compressed
They follow their shifting form throughout
They are amused if not very impressed
They have inspected the mirrors
Reflections to amuse or abhor
Certain they have seen all on offer
But the worst hangs upon the exit door.
The one mirror they must pass to leave
And within is absolute perfection
The stranger stands, entranced and ashamed
Staring at their much-improved reflection
There is no argument to be made
The stranger has no reason at all
Why they should be allowed to leave
While a better version remains in the hall
The world would be so disappointed,
Says the image with kindness and grace
For the stranger to return home
When a better version could take their place
A stranger exits the hall alone
Confident and sure in their selection
The only right choice had been made
And the halls have a new misshapen reflection
There is a house down the lane
Its crooked path keeping it from view
Leading through a vibrant garden
And that path is not meant for you
There is an old woman inside
Who says she can see your future
She waits within those crooked walls
and it is best for all that you never meet her
She used to leave, a long time ago
Offering fortunes, told in rhyme
The children all adored her so
Until she found three that had no more time
She wept in the street, children confused
She must be lying, they said
Soon their parents pulled them away
But dawn found those three children dead
She had only told them the truth
That she saw their unmet birthdays
but the town was mad with grief
and so she left and locked herself away
I visit her sometimes, in her garden
She smiles at me, quite satisfied
No matter what they say, she says
She saw the grim future and she did not lie
There is a house down the lane
its path is not meant for you
For if you visit and she sees your death
I will have to kill you too.
I watched the man walk out of the surf
stepping smoothly onto land
I sat atop a rock and watched
as he gracefully offered me his hand
He told me his name
Which I had heard before
A man who had lived in this town
Until he did not return to shore
His face did not match my memory
Smooth, serene and surreal
I stared at his youth and beauty
as he explained his deal
He had found himself drowning
A great wave had stolen his breath
And pulled beneath the waves
He had felt the grip of death
He was offered a task
From the darkness swelling below
Drown one hundred others
And the sea would let him go
He never granted mercy
for each expired life
dragged to the waiting darkness
Led him closer to his child and wife
The last sacrifice, he described
Had not taken a step from the shore
Sat on a rock, her feet in lapping waves
Staring out into a rising storm
He had met her in a sudden wave
The old woman fighting lamely
He happily pulled her to the darkness
and left her to finally see his family
His story finished, the man smiled
I had remained silent for it all
He asked where he might find his wife
And his lad, who should be three or four
My reply was swift.
Though meant for another purpose
The knife served me well
and between his ribs it took purchase
I let him fall to the ground
I watched him recognise his error
And as the waves dragged him back
I saw a face awash in grief and terror.
I left the rock where I had sat
As my mother had before
Hoping for her husband’s return
when he did not return to shore.
It had been a promising morning
Fog dispersed by bright daytime
And energy had gripped the townsfolk
the day the town awoke for the last time.
Not one, even the most quiet and still
found their rest from that night on
Whatever their methods and habits
The routine comfort of sleep was gone.
It was not discussed in the first days
that not one person had slept
but neighbours shared mirrored looks
and barely understanding, they wept
As the days went past, they settled
It would not harm them, it seemed
The lack of rest gave more hours to the day
Although many missed their dreams
Days blurred from one to the other
Life went on, sunlit or moonlit
But soon the townsfolk noticed
That strangers had come to visit
They never quite fit in
They were not all there, it seemed
Their visits were only a matter of hours
But such is the nature of dreams.
“It is taking much too long”
Said Bill to the hangman
“Give it an hour more to take effect”
and Bill shrugged his shoulders
held aloft by his neck
“It was kind of you to try”
Said Bill to the hooded figure
a dripping axe in their hands
leaving, Bill nodded his head
which he held gently between his palms
“It is not quite enough”
Said Bill to the pyre tender
who threw more fuel atop him
But eventually Bill headed home
(less a fair amount of skin)
“It tastes delicious”
Said Bill to his smiling wife
but the poison was too weak
His wife comforted him
As his heart continued to beat
“I don’t believe you”
Bill had said to the fortune teller
She simply repeated how he would die
It was an awful way to go
but it seemed he would have to comply
There are strangers at the windows
They wear the faces of friends
But the skin fits loosely
and I heard them meet their ends
It was rare at first, the odd complaint
A ceaseless itch beneath the skin
soon the muscles were not their own
their screams strained through rictus grins
They insist it is so much better
A life with such clear direction
It is still them, happy inside
I must simply let go of my connection
It would be so simple to do
To let go of my concern and control
but instead I draw the curtains
and hope that my defences hold
I am unhappy and I am scared
but they are my own experience
For now I am my miserable self
not blissful in bridled deference
Please go to sleep, dear child
Do not go down to the shore
We have locked the doors and windows
But so have parents before
Do not leave your bed, little one
Where you are safe and warm
I know that you hear the song
Calling you into the rising storm
I have heard what calls you there
I remember my childhood thrall
A voice that spoke over my dreams
Until I awoke only feet from the shore
We both miss childhood friends
Who walked into the dark swell
They will not return to us
Where they went, the sea will not tell
We are both so tired, my child
I cannot keep you safe with me
But if I wake and find you gone,
I will follow your footprints into the sea.
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