THE UNDEAD

The distinguishing characteristic of a nightmare is that it is always remembered.
W H R  Rivers

Last night I wandered alone through Highgate
Under moonless sky the colour of slate
Until I came to an old iron gate.

I hadn't realised I was in Swain's Lane
So I tried to retrace my steps again
But a menacing force took control of my brain.

A booming vibration compelled me to climb
Over the gate as I heard the twelfth chime
Of church bell and wished it wasn't that time.

In the dark and dank cemetery where all was decayed
A nauseating stench like an open grave
Assaulted my nostrils. I was mortally afraid.

Then out of the gloom and blacker than black
Loomed a tall ghastly figure and fearing attack
I tried to run, but was brutally yanked back.

As its shroud enclosed me, its eyes glowing red
The horrifying conclusion that I'd soon be dead
Struck me and I screamed - then awoke in my bed!


You're absolutely spot-on Dr Rivers, but I'd much rather not have remembered this one!!