I fell completely in love with the old Victorian house with the gingerbread trim the first time I laid eyes on it.  When I saw the "for rent" sign, I just knew I had to live there until my new apartment was ready.  Knocking on the front door, I was greeted by an old arthritic gentleman who kept telling me to speak louder.

"I'd like to rent your room for a couple of months," I requested in a raised voice. "I'm starting a new job and I'm waiting for my place to become ready."

"Under one condition," the elderly man intoned,  "The basement is completely off limits!"

I agreed to his condition and moved into the historic house, wondering if it harbored any secrets,  Soon, I began to realize that something was off kilter in this ancient place. "Eleven, eleven, eleven,"  the harsh chants emanated from the basement.  I racked my brain to figure out was 'eleven' meant with no success.  I wondered if it referred to the number of rooms in the old house which totaled exactly eleven.  Maybe a previous owner had had eleven children.  Perhaps the basement had eleven boxes of antiquated clothes belonging to a past owner.  I looked at my calendar and realized it was October eleventh so I took this as an omen that I should explore the voice from the basement that night while the owner was asleep.

I was surprised to find the basement door unlocked and crept stealthily down the stairs to the basement.  It was empty except for an old furnace and some boxes of books.  While I was in the far corner, I heard, once again, the voice moaning from under the darkened stairs, "eleven, eleven, eleven."  I was petrified because I knew I had to use the stairs to go back upstairs. I crept over to the stairs to peek under the risers before chancing going up the steps.  All of a sudden, a long arm reached up and pulled me under the stairs which were scattered with bones and torn clothing.  An invisible force compelled me to stay there where I, too, soon became skeletonized remains.

"Twelve, twelve, twelve," droned the disembodied voice.  I did not hear it!

Wicked Game

Chris Isaak

"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

And I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you"

There is no need to

worry about me falling

for anyone else's eyes

Would a sailor not

rebel and choose the

deep blue sea if forced

to pick either land or sky?

Rest assured that you are

this wanderlust sailor's

absolute favorite song

Becoming entranced by your

haunting lullabies whilst standing

merely a few painful feet away from you,

my beautiful and ethereal mermaid,

is exactly where I belong

They linger here, my demons shady

sailing in storm in yawning mind.

“Come to me,” my mortal demons implore

nibbling on my brain, chewing my psyche.

I smile to hide malignant spirits hovering

thriving darkness commandeering my mind.

Beasts with human faces and coated red skins

dripping with blood, pouring poison on wounds,

smothering me with outstretched screams, as

freezing knife of terror plunges within

while monsters gaily play checkers on my soul.

I suppress these spirits but I can’t release them -

they torment, swimming backstrokes in my skull

I want to flee to the moon to escape their wrath

but they wear dreadful disguise of flaming madness

I cry for relief but no one hears my plaintive cries

Don’t navigate my mind, that’s where demons dwell.

I step outside into

These remaining August nights

The scent of summer

Meets me with a breeze

The night sings out love

And I have none to give

The air is layered

Like bedroom sheets

I long to slip in between