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Writer's pictureEvelyn Creon

The Road I followed

Narrow the road I did travel.

Old and gray it 'twas.

Full of twists and turns

And weird old trees.

Up it took me, deep into

A forest I'd never explored.

I followed it.

knowing not what to expect.

It was quiet and had an eerie feel.

The trees all seemed green.

The farther I went

the darker and gloomy

Everything became.

I began to jump

At any little sound.

A rustle, crack, snap, or tap

Made me look around.

Yet still I followed it

Despite all my fear.

The trees now all seemed dead

And were gray shadows.

My gut told me to stop

But I did not take heed.

Still I wandered up and up,

Suddenly I stopped.

A rusty old gate blocked the path

One of old and tired.

Behind it stood a caving, in house.

Everything about it said "Go away"

I gave the gate a few kicks

Breaking the gate from its hold

Then past it I did creep.

On the porch I now did stand

Trying to push back my fear.

Knowing not what lay behind

The old well, worn door.

I turned the handle ever so slowly

And pushed it open a bit.

Taking a deep breath I stepped foot within.

Dust covered everything.

The room was dark and musty.

A strange smell filled the air.

One that made one's stomach turn.

Then taking a another step inwards

I saw something in the corner.

I trembled and fled in horror

At the site that lay before me.

A body as old as the hills

Lay propped against the wall.

I ran as fast as I could

Away from that old wrecked place.

I Followed the road to where it began.

Then stopped to catch my breath.

I turned to look behind me.

Not sure of what I'd see.

The road was gone.

in it's place were miles and miles of trees.

I never returned to that place.

Yet still it seems to haunt me.


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