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To Night

This is based on real life experience. I wrote this as I was experiencing it.

By JAY PATELPublished 6 months ago 1 min read


the ticking of the clock is the loudest

because there is no other sound;

each ticking

sounds like falling of grains of time.

I, tucked in my bed, see something lurking

in the kitchen; even the sound of chair being


the rustling of the calendar makes my heart

flutter like the only leaf on a bald tree.

I move the blanket up to my head

yet I feel somone breathing down my neck,

ready to pounce

but as soon as I take my head out,

there is no


The sudden snore from my grandma

strangely calms me down,

reminding me that I am still on earth

and not transported to the nest of fear,

not a host of ghosts.

Then fleeting laughter

clamours through the hall—

I look that way and it


sometimes gathered

courage to confront

but it dies down like going off

of a bulb.





the ticking begins


surreal poetrysad poetry

About the Creator


Welcome to my imagination. ✨

I write poem & short stories.

Thanks for stopping by! 🩵

[email protected]

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Comments (2)

  • k eleanor6 months ago

    Love this poignant piece!

  • Oooo, I loved how dark and poignant this was. Well done!


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