I closed my eyes,

She isn’t real,

She doesn’t exist,

Ghosts aren’t real,

A moaned sounded from down the hall,

I backed up into the room,

My body trembling,

As fear made me fall,

I got up fast,

And slammed the door shut,

Locked and barricade it,

Why won’t this thing just give up?

The moans grew louder,

As the room began to shake,

The door was surely going to burst,

I tried to convince myself it was nothing but an earthquake,

But suddenly the moans stopped,

Everything seemed fine,

Everything was still,

I was grateful to be alive,

But I quickly felt something,

Wrapping itself around my neck tightly,

It was soft and silk like,

Shit I took things too lightly,

My eyes soon widen,

Terrified from what I saw,

Black hair overflowed the room,

It was breaking down the damn door!

My hands tried to rip,

The hair off my neck,

But to no avail,

Perhaps I was meant to fail,

The moans clawed in my mind,

As they were louder than before

My end was neigh,

I was quite sure,

And then she appeared to me,

In all her broken limb and bloody glory,

As she came to add me to her collections,

Of poor souls who were unfortunate enough to hear of her tragic story.

~a sleepy ghost~


Author: Viv

Just a suffering Victorian era ghost stuck in the past but loves modern music, sushi, and singing despite being really boring.

2 thoughts on “Hair.”

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