Pradip Chattopadhyay (28.01.1961 / Kolkata)
Ghosts in a House
In the barren landscape with little to show
The wintry day was about to bow
When with a tingling fear and a little grouse
I stood alone before the haunted house.
It loomed ominously its spires high
That seemed to pierce the evening sky
Its cobwebbed door and dusty panes
Reeked of evil and bode ill omens.
The chilly wind blew down my spine
Trying to stop me with howling whine
‘Don’t step on this long untrodden track,
Before they find you, better go back’.
For a moment I felt like running away
Not stopping there for the nocturnal stay
But my heavy laden feet dragged me on
There was no going back till came dawn.
Soon I was past the evening’s first star
To enter the doorway that was slightly ajar
The darkness inside was so maliciously thick
It would hardly melt with just one matchstick.
As I lit the candle I cried in utter fright
I was knocked down by a dark whirling night
It was sometime before I regained my compose
It was bats on their flight as from slumber they arose.
The place closely resembled my nightmare’s hell
With silence of the grave and a rotten stinking smell
It seemed to say ‘the alive is debarred here,
When you turn to them, you’ll have no fear’!
I tried not to be unnerved and lit up my torch
To see what lay beyond the long dusty porch
Finding the staircase I tried to gather my poise
But it was soon gone at the ghastly creaking noise.
I heard someone above speaking in muffled voice
‘We had to come here, there was no choice,
But I’m sure something is down there,
A ghost must be moving, I heard sounds down stair’!
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