You evil creature of the night,

How dare you come to me to bite,

Be away be away get out of my sight,

Find another victim for you to fright.

A vicious creature adorned in black,

Milk white skin without a crack,

And satin wings upon your back,

It’s not me that you should attack.

Return return from whence you came,

We’re not here for your silly game,

Time is nearly up for you and your bane,

It’s the hour for the sun to rise once again.

Be gone be gone evil creature of the night,

The sun is here, it’ll soon be light,

And then you’ll burn to our delight,

And your ashes shall glow, your skin ignite.

Be gone be gone creature from hells dark pit,

Get to your casket and lie in it,

Hide from the sunshine, don’t bask don’t sit,

Just sculk in the shadows away from it.

And peace shall come to those who wait,

Below the castle with towers so great,

The evil creature that we all hate,

Shall return, of that, there is no debate.

Vampire came to me purely by accident, I was working on another piece when the first lines came into my head. I quickly grabbed my notebook and scribbled down the first sentences , and from there, it grew.

It’s now a six verse epic of demonic proportions, almost ready for Halloween.

The post A creature of the night appeared first on Rob Joseph .

It was early evening and just starting to get dark outside, and I stood, sending the cat with a meow of complaint jumping to the floor. I stretched my arms and legs, then headed out to the kitchen. I turned the light on, walked to the kettle on the worktop, and flicked the switch. 

I dipped a teabag into the cup of hot water, burning my fingers in the process; I let it brew for a few seconds, then threw the hot wet bag into the bin beneath the counter. I added plenty of milk and sugar, then stirred the pale brew.

I leaned against the solid wood kitchen table and started sipping my weak tea as I gazed out of the window, down the length of the garden, and to the woods beyond.

Suddenly, caught in the fading light, a figure appeared, all in black, a hood pulled up. The person just stood at the end of the garden, barely visible against the black of the woods, and appeared to be watching me.

I thought at first that my eyes were deceiving me, as moments later, the figure disappeared into the blackness of the trees.

Grabbing my coat from the hook in the hallway, I unlocked the back door and stepped outside. I waited for a couple of minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkening skies, then strode confidently up the garden path, past the swings that my son loves so much, and further toward the end of the garden. 

I looked around as I reached the fence bordering the garden and the trees, cursing silently for not bringing a torch. But there was nothing to indicate that someone had been there. Sighing, I thrust my hands deep into my pockets and returned to the kitchen’s warmth.

I turned the kitchen lights off and returned to the living room and the TV with its awful game show. I couldn’t concentrate on the questions and wasn’t attempting to answer any either. All I could think of was the figure in black. 

With the evening at a close and nighttime upon us, I rose and headed back into the kitchen. Leaving the lights off, I peered out the window and into the dark. The furthest reaches of the garden were in darkness and invisible without light, but from what I could see, all appeared to be quiet.

I double-checked the locks on the doors, turned the TV and the lights off, then headed upstairs to bed.

I awoke with a start. Something was wrong, but I was not fully awake; I didn’t know what. I looked at the clock; it was just after two in the morning. Why had I awoken so early?

I lay in bed listening to the silence, then arose, pulled a dressing gown over my pyjamas and went to the window. And there it was, the figure in black, barely visible in the darkness. Quietly, I took a torch from the bedside drawer and tiptoed through the house and down the stairs.

I shuffled slowly into the darkened kitchen and looked again at the figure in the garden. Quietly, I unlocked the kitchen door, pushed slowly as the hinges creaked, and stepped silently into the night.

Taking a longer route than before, I kept to the garden’s boundaries where the shadow from the hedges lay blackest, and from there, I skirted around my prey, sneaking quietly ever closer. I picked up a rock from the grassy floor; its smooth contours felt comfortable in my hand.

I was now behind the figure, so close that I was sure that my beating heart was loud enough for him to hear, but he didn’t, and I raised the rock above my head, then brought it crashing down upon him.

This person, this watcher, all in black, crumpled to the floor, and I grabbed his arm and dragged him over the grass and back to the house. I struggled with the kitchen door, but eventually, I got the prone figure into the kitchen. From there, I dragged him down the hallway, past the coat hooks and up to the cellar door and the steps leading to my favourite space.

I flicked the light switch and dragged my new friend slowly down the wooden steps and into my dungeon; I locked him in a small cage and headed back to bed, certain that he would not be escaping.

The following day, I awoke with the sun shining through the window and refreshed, I hopped out of bed and hurried downstairs to the kitchen, where I prepared breakfast for my son and then called him from the bottom of the stairs. I sat back in the kitchen and sipped my first coffee.

Antony came bounding down the stairs and dived straight into his bowl of cornflakes. The bitterness of the coffee brought my senses back to reality, and the events of the night before returned, and inwardly, I smiled.

After breakfast, I ushered Antony out of the house and off to school, then quietly unlocked the cellar door. I was keen to have some fun with my captive, but before I got to the cage, I knew that he was already dead. Disgruntled, I unlocked the cage and dragged the watcher’s lifeless body onto the floor. I checked for a pulse, just in case, but there was none, so I dragged his corpse over to the white enamel bathtub, and with effort, I lifted his body up and let it fall with a thud. I sighed as I looked at the crumpled figure, grey and lifeless in the bathtub. I really was looking forward to torturing him, killing him slowly, listening to him beg for mercy, but maybe the blow to the head had been too hard. 

It wasn’t the first time that the initial blow had crushed the skull and caused almost instant death, and I made a mental note not to be so aggressive in the future.

I walked to the cupboard in the corner and selecting a key from the loop in my pocket, I unlocked and opened the door. The metal cupboard screeched as it opened, a sound that I loved but one that brought only fear to my victims, or at least those who were still alive.

I reached in and selected the saw, still red on the serrated blade from my last victim some months ago. I plugged it into the wall socket, then dressed myself in a disposable white suite. I pulled the hood tight, then pulled on the green rubber gloves. 

I admired myself in the dirty mirror for a few moments, then switched on the saw and watched with delight as the blade dug into the pale white flesh.

The post Stalking at the wrong house appeared first on Rob Joseph .