Mr Fotherington doesn't live here anymore.

[Lord Bilious]

Mr FOTHERINGTON doesn’t live here anymore.
The dawdling time is over, how conspicuous are they?
The ones who told me about them left many years ago, but it WILL be soon.
They close now, I can feel their tepid breath upon my lashes. Without a doubt, as sure as the frozen pipes shall crack and heathen gentry gather for the end,
The ones too delightfully pustulous to speak of have arrived.

A shock. Tis nigh on the darkest hand-piece and the least smooth of blades!
The fools! What have they given me to work with here? Do they really expect me to continue?
Only 27 parts unformed and the rest,
a glance from beneath withered eyebrows confirms
are crouched still.. slimy and whole.
I turn away as yet the gangly Scrabblers clamour for purchase about the sill.
‘TESTING TIMES’ I mutter.
Perhaps they would all kindly depart had they heard of more fortuitous opportunities between ‘The Oaks’ and ‘Riverside Walk’?
When will it end?
‘WHO CAN SAY?’
What will become of us all?
‘WHO CAN TELL?’
The will of the wise hides, broken.
The courage of fools hesitates.
Under scorched bracken the multitude shat.
Beside and upon the slithery columns of light the graffiti of mongrel wastrels was indelibly marked.
We pay for that unilateral adulation now.
Oh yes, the tide has told,
High water slaps saltilly against raw shins even as their pierced ocular voids peer through the stained and cracked pane.
I take their useless tools and I DIG.
DIG till my blistered fingers ooze
and frenzied, scratching toenails come away and click betwixt the hole and the door, blood-specked.
Dig still more with splintered steel
and snapped shank
till here in the darkened tunnel
I shuffle forwards, trapped.
Still, tis better than a fate of hobbling
and slow butchery they had gleefully waiting.
Tis over?
‘I KNOW THE TRUTH TO BE NEVER!’
©Bilious 2016

[dwells]

You will not escape those zombie hordes LB, and this was wonderfully wrought! Reminiscent of some of H.P. Lovecraft's finest tales of terror. You relentlessly propel the reader into that darkened, skin-crawling, hard-won tunnel from which there will be no escape. Well done and cheers darkly! - Dan
OH - and welcome to TPS too! Let's have another, please! (we have been warned, but we don't listen)

[Lord Bilious]

TOO KIND, I'M SURE. TWAS BUT THE MURMERED RUMINANTING OF A MADMAN. CHEERS THOUGH, GOOD STUFF ON THIS FORUM THESE SUBMISSIONS...

[Dew]

this is me in 17 years (when my youngest is finally grown up). its actually my retirement plan. im going to become mysterious and ominous and secluded and do things that would look really eccentric and creepy if anyone was watching. backup plan is to commit myself to an asylum. three meals and macaroni art baby. ITS NEVER OVER UNTIL YOU ARE! lol...sorry. I got way too into this...good read! - dew

[Mr Goth]

I enjoy the warning in this piece and the sense of dread that goes for miles in your words. I wish to see you build upon this I wish to see how much deeper you can. is there a end? if not where do the souls end in this endless journey.

cheers

chuck

[JASON]

'under scorched bracken the multitude shat' care to elaborate?
Just my sick sense of humour!!
congrats on the light.

[INFPoet]

I just may have nightmares from this! Well done on a scary tale!