murder in the warehouse

October 23, 2009
More by this author
A young boy crouched
Hugging his knees tightly
In a cold, damp vent
Of the run-down warehouse.
Hardly daring to move,
Though shaking so hard.
Hardly daring to even breathe,
While gasping for air.
He watched.
Watched a Herculean-sized cobra be released
From its metallic prison
Watched the atmosphere
In the room suddenly
Watched the cobra slither sinisterly
Toward the captive lady.
Was watching,
Until his surroundings went black.
~ ~ ~
He finally awoke.
And through Diana’s bright light
Leaking through a thin window high upon the wall,
He saw
The crimson slits of eyes,
The long, thick, powerful body,
The emerald-green scales
And garnet-coloured diamonds
Patterned throughout the muscular back,
Into the dark abyss
Of the unending hallway.
The cobra was still alive.
But the limp lady who was held captive
Seemed to be otherwise.
Or so he thought,
As the youth jumped
Down from the vent
To go to her aid.
Alas, there was no pulse,
No sound of a beating heart,
No wisp of breath,
No tremble of movement.
And yet,
She stared up at him
With those same blood-red eyes of the cobra.
And cackling,
She sank those ivory, sharp fangs,
Glinting in the moonlight,
Into the side of his neck.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback