THE DOLL
STILL LAUGHS
To talk about the moon; it had the face of a wet weekend. Its
rays were hitting down on earth; badly bruised full of disappointment. Though
few reached safely, sensing and sniffing elation. Distress was writ large over
its face, seemingly helpless. It was vehemently ragging about what looked like
a challenge to the sun. The streets lay all clear accompanied by the frog
eating into human vision. In the time when aspiration grew about the memories
that were recounted. There was a dark side too; the nightmare and the demons
arose too;
THE NIGHT OF THE DEAD!!
Amidst the squealing, screeching, shrieking bats,
the dead call you to join their dinner party. The spread is lavish-bones,
skulls, and blood soup. You are the delicacy. They fish you out for a grand
dinner night. Strange voices honked the presence of what was lingering in the
vile climate outside, the air particles dragging the noises into John’s ears.
The fresco painting modified the looks of the pale walls, and hung titled.
Zooming through the window pane the black clouds hid the moon; perhaps its
anger would disturb the earth. An abandoned church, the graveyard and
tombstones added to the morbid ambience. It was midnight when the handprints
coated with blood slithered down the window pane. The windows battered, doors
screeched. There was an evidence John had to believe!!
The lights flickered in sync with the laughing of
the doll. It grew in decibel to be the highest note of symphony orchestra. The
lights went off. she appeared and then she was gone. She reappeared and
vanished in thin air. John froze. Goosebumps justified his fear. He slowly
opened the door….
A rocking
chair was moving vigorously and there sat the doll, laughing. She stood up,
crackled, and came closer….. John’s corpse was lying on the wooden flooring.
Every night the chair rocks and the doll continue to laugh.
