A ghost story....A manor haunted and told by the one haunted...(meant to read fast otherwise the rhythm is lost)

Through the door I heard him creep
moan his lost and lonesome cry
In the chambers of this keep
In the chambers of my sleep
Entering the halls within my ear
Echoing so none other but I, could hear
 
Within this den
The hour same too never fail
I hear him claw his way from hell
I become this shade so pale
I cannot fathom but still ill tell
 
Out there the ocean I love hearing, hearing closely
yet still fearing
a storm awakens the un-wakable
oh terror unmistakable!
 
no heat! None that slips
as my breath falls from my lips
upon the waves roll ghostly ships
the wind has bitter fingertips
ocean manor and olden cliff
frozen time in ancient grip
 
through old eyes I see their ending
over pending, ever sending
signals from the grave,
where the lord could not be saved
and the lady craven, never brave
their blood the crew was paid to crave
 
In this night they’ll always share
death was never so unfair!
The lanterns on my doorstep
Cast writhing shadows that arent there
they live! They live!
As well as sin
Dead as well and dead within
 
Keep their frigid hands from closing
around my heart where fear tis seeping
Exposing shrill those imposing calls
Hear the speaking, as upward creeping
Through the floorboards of my halls
 
They call with desperate hope tormented
Hearts long shattered and fragmented
within their gaze such horror find
and far behind their souls aligned
Oh! malignant they and not benign!
 
see their faces betrayal swept
within endless night we've never slept
these spirits had they some dark debt
Oh what secrets sick, have these walls kept?
 
vengeful and distraught lashes she my skin
yet pain inflicted is from within
What savagery would my lady have me mend?
Defend I from All?
Drowned faces callous and closing in?
 
the waves they speak, they speak in dread
fly away the dead! the dead!
through hazy figure in moonlight gleaming
I hear them screaming, never leaving
My faith ignore what evil bred
Fly away! the dead! the dead!
 
Those that serve
never deserve
what they come to know too late
see those heads there piked
upon my courtyard gate?
Stained with blood, with blood and hate
And there he rises oh so late
on the landing of the stair
The exacting moment of his fate
And loath he must with such despair
Oh with me? Just me?
must this he share?
 
a mouth hangs wide, morbid, ill
wider and wider said lips reveal
out comes screams and groans until
all thats left doth surely still
horrify and testify
beneath what no mortal could call eyes!
 
As he moans and weeps
shadow fingers crawl
Oh please, oh please Ive see it all
his shadow seeps, oh what is sleep?
to knees I fall or feet I leap?
 
Just when I fear I can heed no more
A shadow slithers cross wooden floor
A finger?
Where points he?
To a curtain hanging upon a door?
A door so hidden from long before
And the tortured screams of first said lord
Revealed did they, his wealth and hoard
and buried his corpse sealed neath the planks
And hers in pieces across the moor
Her misery taunting these very banks
and those whoever dare to come ashore
 
To set this manor aflame!
Upon its foundation stone the year and a curse engraved!
Within each window a phantom stares out villainous and depraved!
Each painting on the wall depicts a soul enslaved!
That rose within the garden grew red from the blood that bathed!
This curse they brought their endless spawn
For the night marched on when came the dawn
Oh before I knew what such foulness bred
Fly away the dead! The dead!
 
Oh. take heed my nerve
See there in that mirror close?
I reproach thee
Is it he?
tis that final ghost!
What hear I? Is it the spector I fear most?
This haunt less ancient and set apart
Be thy still! Thy twin of heart!
Could it be true that I am mad?
So alike to him I shake
I probe and pry for fools false hope
I grope! for solaced tract to stake
A final stand for doth it breaks
My sanity against his soothing grin
That may I so soon mock?
My resolve is fractured with the shock
As rattle he every key within their lock
As the hour it chimes upon that clock!
Oh yes I know! scream I
The night is young Forsake I not!
How long! I wail can this be fought?
 
 
Then tolls a silence so very brief
That have I no time for relief
Would know I any thrill but grief?
Long ruined is my disbelief
 
comes he now beside me, my prompt friend
and with him comes that chilling wind
      Unbroken still
But now my will
begins to bend
How decrepit he runs to cliff from den
Casting himself into foam and brine
Same hour and place again and again
this mirror! is it his panicked guise not mine?
And in his reflection will come my fate?
Is it with my own likeness do I berate?
Is that the sneer of one escaping?
A mind that is not his own?
Do I know him? as well as myself?
Or is this my visage and mine alone?
How could I have ever called this home?
In my mirror so close I touch his face
Yes, such lucid sense I've long denied
Instead this madness I've embraced
look I am into his eyes, look does he into mine
Tis A glow? in these eyes could such life replace?
no,never, upon such eyes demented calm shall dine
In this mirror so close
so close indeed I touch his face
I drink the sense of his rational choice
I hear the salt and my tongue its taste
within his eyes I sense his voice
"such sweet repose" whispered
is but a short and placid fall too grace
 
My flesh as brumal as yonder wraith
deranged and crazed they lash this faith
Before sunrise reaches the old time said
be I cold and wet
within a bed
And ashes will be all thats left for a flame unfed.
Stop!
 
I say! Cease this laughter in my head
Wicked laughter of the dead
Those who know not of their death so clear
Walk alive, alive and near!
 
 
 
+—Myth there have been for ages told
Of this here dwelling many centuries old
like its many stones there once compounded
To each brick laid, mortared with wretched tale
This was the last in a lineage long thought frail
and never to be, this chaos quelled
Each generation a bane anew was founded
Each heir it bred followed a cursed nail
Driven deep Into their Coffins breast
where ne'er ever do they rest—+
 
C.R.Stanger
 
2009
Revised for last time in 2019

The first huge part is from the man seeing the ghosts and the very last verse is almost a narrator...Are the ghosts real? The stories may or may not be but i figured they are ... and the family has been beset by curse or insanity? Is the man in the mirror perhaps his father or is it a distant relative? Who escaped by jumping off the cliff? Or is the man in the mirror only himself? Or is a spirit of someone who really killed himself from the same insanity he felt or have ghost really plagued the owners or descendants of the family with terror? Does he kill himself as well? Does he burn the house down?...i leave it open ended...im very aware of the Edgar a Poe feel...i dont like that its so much like it but thats my thing...the rhyme scheme and rushed panic feeling def. has his feel to it...but not on purpose..

i know i shouldnt do this..but I cant help but explain...the first arrogant and deceptive lord and rather bad cowardly lady had some sort of debt and instead of paying the debtors back.. he hoarded this treasure...that indeed could be cursed treasure and where it all perhaps started.. but he keeps it in hidden room with hidden door behind tapestry ...he fell in with the wrong higher ups and when he didnt pay his debts and they eventually found out about the treasure...they payed mercenary pirates or sailors to come and it was a stormy night on the ocean side manor..and they first murdered all the servants..."those who serve ..never deserve what they come to know too late" then they rape the lady and scatter her body in pieces across the moor as they leave..thats the ghost he says he seems to feel sorry for and wishes he could protect in a way..but everyone who comes ashore she apparently torments..then these pirates torture the lord to find out where his treasure is and then in irony kill him and bury him beneath the floor of his hidden treasure room ..this is the wraith that first appears up from the floor ..that particularly gross and mutilated looking...and while happening almost every night its much more intensely seen and felt on stormy nights..and they always appear at exact times through out the night...when it falls cold and he can see his breath and its storming...i dont go in to all their cursed offspring and their ghosts ..its simply implied when speaking about the windows and pictures that they also sometimes appear..also implied but not certain does the crew perish in the sea soon after their attack when their boat is throw upon the rocks in the storm..anyways...the lord and lady probably had children away somewhere at the time..or had nephews to take over estate...but the most powerful ghost is the last one ...because he isnt as old and possibly much more personal and intimately connected to the man.."thy twin of heart".for he recognizes him in the mirror...its possibly the tormented ones father or grandfather..who killed himself eventually driven mad by the curse or ghosts or just plagued with insanity...most around the estate simply think the family is genetically unsound mentally...that they were always thought frail...but yes...I dont want it to be known wether he is really just seeing himself in the mirror or its a the suicidal relative trying to make him see the sense of killing himself or hes in fact sinister and trying to make him harm himself...or like I said the mans insane and talking to himself in the mirror and then finally at the end its implied..this last of the cursed line in the family who has no children..finally sets fire to the entire house and then throws himself off the cliff into the ocean and rocks..."ill be cold and wet within a bed" and that whole last part or verse i make sound differently rhythm wise...because it almost seems like he comes to a demented calm...so i wanted the reader to slow down in their head...almost like a new rhyme scheme and poem..but because he can see smells and hear tastes and all that toward the end..right as he says take heed my nerve... the rhythm changes..you get the idea he may just be insane..hes obviously losing it from lack of rest....so its also possible its all just sleep deprivation..and hes seeing things..i believe all of the above...I like to think the family is truly cursed by ghosts and mental problems..inflicted by their first bad ancestor who lived there and made mistakes beginning the curse(maybe from the realistic consequences of debt oorr perhaps the supernatural cursed treasure) ....and locals misjudge heir after heir as all insane and the bad mental health(depression, madness, schizophrenia and suicide) just passed down from child to child..which is likely also true..via curse...lol what a mess of a poem...anyways I KNOW.. i know...im suppose to just let the reader read and figure for himself...but the horror of this tale I truly wanted to be understood..and to be honest it very muddled ..i tried to clean it up..but have not been successful..so i didnt know if reader would get all the points..because of bad writing..still think that the awful things that happened in poem are better known when reading it after notes are read...even if it muddles up the notes page...This is one of the only poems id rather explain in exactness instead of letting others think its about what they will...shrug..

Note ** all my poems are copyrighted and have codes to prove ownership ... While I doubt anyone here does this ..still have to say Don't steal other people's work wether a poem is good enough or not .... It's personal and directly speaks from the soul of the writer and to take their work and say it's yours ..it's wrong and unnatural ..your stealing a peice of them ...it's nothing to do with money or rights...it's so much more than that...its happened to me .. It can happen to anyone .. It hurts and I always speak out against it even if to most it seems pretentious...

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Imrogue
about 4 years

I like the imagery of your story... (post script) ...though I do like the mystery of it without further explanation too...

Robert L. Martin
about 4 years

Wow, Catherine. That story is beautiful. You sure have a knack for writing.

J Ann Crowder
about 4 years

I love Edgar Allan Poe and this in a way really reminded me of his writing style. Very intense! Very good! I like the fast rhythm. I like a little creepy sometimes, it keeps me on the edge of my seat anticipating.

Malak Alrashed
over 4 years

Very creepy and haunting. Sort of my type. I loved reading it.

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Cory Garcia J Ann Crowder Imrogue Malak Alrashed
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