The Specter

By Elton Camp How I came to be there, I can’t say It was growing dark at the end of day The forest hushed, not a sound I heard Neither wind nor chirping of a bird The fog was dense, damp and white Objects were vague shapes to my sight Is that some weird animal that I see? Or just the decaying stump of a tree? Briars, my pants legs began to rip Protruding rocks caused me to slip Briefly, I stopped then moved ahead Eager to escape that place of dread As a large, black shape I neared, A horrid specter clearly appeared In a long, black robe to the ground Skeletal hands with a sword unbound A moaning voice then did demand “Come, for your death is at hand!” My heart was racing and I was screaming It was a relief to find I’d been dreaming

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