By Loris John Fazio
Won't you let me in, Lou-Anne? It seems you need a friend. The night's so cold out with the beasts, and you're in tears again. I knew the kids that lived downtown, no need to be afraid – they roamed so lost, the little dears – I helped them find their way. You see, they wept and drowned in sweat when each night I lurked near – they wouldn't cease that dreadful sound that small mouths make in fear. So to cure their pain, I taught them a game – it was All Hallows' Evening – they sat in a circle and chanted my name; then they all stopped breathing. You can ask little Jenny, I'm sure she would tell of the fun that we had on the night when she fell: "I was always so blue, now I laugh all the time: how it tickles to feel the moss grow on my spine!" But Jenny was so long ago! Last year I played with Jake; and now he screams no more but sings in the deeps of Blackreed Lake. You don't believe me? I'm sure you will see if you go after sunset and dig under his tree. Oh don't be alarmed, I mean you no harm; It just gets a bit lonely out there in the barn. But it's late now, my sweet, and you must go to bed – we can't waste any time now the sunshine has fled. Don't be worried for me, I won't make a sound: you know I must hide while your mommy's around. I'll wait here in the mirror, where the grown-ups deny that they see what you see when they stare in my eyes. Then, when it's midnight, I'll climb out, I'll creep and stand at your bedside to watch while you sleep.
About The Author
Loris John Fazio lives in Catania, on the sunny island of Sicily, where he earned a B.A. in Philosophy. He has felt a fascination for the horror genre ever since reading Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Terror at age twelve.
He writes both in English and Italian and some of his poems have appeared in publications such as Black Petals Horror Magazine, Frogpond, The Heron’s Nest and Better Than Starbucks.
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