Echoes on the Moors – A Halloween Stroll

‘Tis the Witching Hour

Time for things no longer living

Even worse, it’s All Hallows’ Eve…

Too long past the time of passing

Whenst the sun still shone and all was quiet

Now is the time of happening

Sky as dark as the robe of Death himself

Fog already risen on the moors

Murkiness seeming to feed on the night

Drinking energy from the living

Alas, it cannot wait and ahead you charge

Angry leaves on twisted currents, scream past your feet

Sharpened oak twigs reach down from bent branches

You feel the whispered near-miss and quicken your pace

The pathway clear; at least for now, but it’s hard to see

A shrill and agonizing calling echoes from the deep woods

Your attention trying to be in two places at once

As you stumble and fall forward, over and over

Disorientation, the night fills every vision

Trees give no bearing, and you’re all alone

At the time of night whenst all thing noble were in hiding

Good surrenders itself for the hour, as it has been

Standing at last, you then turn in endless circles

Too quick to even notice the path to your left

And panic sets in; screams everywhere, maybe yours

Running, chest pounding kind of running,

Tripping but never falling, hard to breathe

Every steps seems to go deeper into the foggy moors

Trees blending, rocks  hidden, and no help from the wind

And then it happens, a single miscalculation and WHAM

A violent collision with a magestic oak tree

Trunk wider than two men, and taller too

You notice the acorns as you begin to lose consciousness

Weak all over, shortness of breath, no strength

Eyes struggling to stay open, all energy on trying to focus

But it’s a losing battle, eyelids fluttering

Seeing the leaves above, their green muted in the dark

Thick branches; reaching out for endless eternities

And of course, the three witches who just happened upon you!

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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

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