through dark corridors
shadows cast by bright torches flickering
into the dungeons creeping
where rat’s ruby eyes gleam
like spells cast by spat upon sorcerers
down damp stairs
hear the clinking of old steel chains
rattling like skeletons in the midnight breeze
whispering cries of revenge meant to be shouted
finally, breathing heavily
open the cupboard
a locked door, but a thief can easily pick this excuse for a barrier
open it carefully, make no noise
for the pale ghosts that lurk here
could be listening
the cupboard stacks forever, full of shelves…
they rise high, up to a ceiling
that cannot be seen
a lonely ladder leads up its length
whilst the shelves flash the twinkle of glass bottles…
pickled
things
inside of them
black sponges soaking up shadow
sickly jade plants limply waving
bloodshot eyeballs glaring
muddy, mucky bubbles blubbering
dead things
stirring
the skull laughs at the mess
ascend the tall ladder
it soars, forgetting when to end
looking at the shelves
looking down
can’t see the bottom…
losing balance
the ladder splinters into a thousand
shards of shrapnel that cut like knives
wide eyed and shrieking
clawing at air
kicking at frothing jars
falling…
down
down
down
…
the skull laughs at the mess