Thoroughfare

It felt like an eternity since someone had sat
in that darkly shadowed room
where dust motes still dance unseen in the morning light
trickling through broken windows

Silence beats in the heart of shadows
a mirror to the blood that still stained the floors
forgotten by modern eyes
though superstition still pulled at their minds

1918
A thoroughfare turned fairground of macabre delights
for the creatures that came out of the rain
and into this mortal realm through doors unprotected
on that unholiest of nights

Weather-worn tape and hastily boarded up windows
the only monument left of a scene
no detective of the age, or any other
could plausibly explain with their scientific minds

Modern day
This place is still a thoroughfare for vermin
and children playing chicken with the haunted station
it’s demons hidden behind the padlocked door
that the brave only dare to brush with trembling fingertips

A splinter drips with blood into the shadows
igniting the memories of rain and carnage
and as storm clouds clamour overhead
a new reign of terror creeps out from the shadows

and into the world

© Indie Adams 2012

*Poem inspired by image.