| Encounter with Stephen King It was a phase |
| Blinded, we stumble along the trodden path Vines crumpled, retreating back into the dark at our feet The night is voluptuous with heat We pause, breathing in steam and blinking sightlessly The air around us sinks, heavy, like waves We stand. Sudden blunderings in the bush, something huge and screamy Reeking of death, reeking of gore We cry out and clutch each other, terrifiied It comes roaring at us, shrieking and horrid Smeared with the tangy-odored guts of it's last victim Terrible crashing as it bursts onto our path, lurching, panting And then it leaps at us as we scream our last screams Roaring, terrible teeth, terrible claws, it reaches us A foul -smelling wind sweeps our greasy hair back from our blanched brows. Silence. The insects have paused in their symphony; we have paused in Our terror, hearts slamming themselves against our ribcages. The heat presses in again, the jungle slowly comes back And, cautiously, a single insect lets out a creak Soon, relieved, the others join him, one at a time The sound of life returns We untangle ourselves, our hair falling back into our bleary eyes We begin to slowly pick our way back Towards daylight. |
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