As these things begin
With, really, no start
And yet we’re omniscient still
With purpose to win
And a triumphant heart
And iron-made, courageous will.
A distance so near;
A wickedness felt;
A brother the witch locked away.
A cackle and fear
Would inside me melt
My courage with effortless sway.
Beyond just a bend
Without being seen
A castle so menacing stood.
It could not defend
Against my good being;
the bad never stood up to good.
I’d race through its doors
And dash ‘cross its floors
And hurriedly room upon room
Would never deliver my brother to me-
I was certain he was meeting his doom.
And the walls would get thinner
The ceiling would cave
And just when all hope seemed to fade
I’d hear the weak voice of my brother in arms
And I’d crawl toward it without dissuade.
I’d pull him to freedom through crumbling walls
And a witch would be hot at our heels.
And she’d cackle and hiss at us, screaming, balled fists, baddest bitch with no earthly appeals.
And we’d make it to safety, my brother and I-
A close call it was always to be,
But the dream would return,
And the witch would be there
to kidnap my brother from me.
About the Creator
Paul Forshtay
I’ve been writing all my life, but have never really sought publication by any means.
I’ve written an obituary once.
Apart from that, rant-riddled Facebook posts and endless reams of paper scattered about the States are all I’ve got.
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Comments (1)
This was a reoccurring and extremely terrifying dream I’d had as a child. I would wake after such occurrences being able to smell the dream or hear echos of the witch’s laughter. It was so horrifying and realistic. I couldn’t tell you the last I’d had such a dream, but the impression it’d left has made me certain she could return anytime she’d please.