The Horror
There is great evil in the world.
None of it is fanged, without
reflection in the glass,
nor pale and decomposed,
walking, stiff, in hordes.
It may wear sheets
but doesn't float immaterially
between the living and the dead.
It isn't lycanthropous and hairy
underneath the full moon.
It doesn't shuffle, wrapped in cotton,
hungering for love and tana leaves.
It smiles in the mirror and wears
whatever you might wear, day to day.
It isn't frightening to look at
until it comes for you
and what your heart holds precious.
Horror wears an ordinary face.
None of it is fanged, without
reflection in the glass,
nor pale and decomposed,
walking, stiff, in hordes.
It may wear sheets
but doesn't float immaterially
between the living and the dead.
It isn't lycanthropous and hairy
underneath the full moon.
It doesn't shuffle, wrapped in cotton,
hungering for love and tana leaves.
It smiles in the mirror and wears
whatever you might wear, day to day.
It isn't frightening to look at
until it comes for you
and what your heart holds precious.
Horror wears an ordinary face.
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Other stories by Gary Hardaway
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A parade of horribles progressively terrible awaits. *
excellent way of saying it.
and its very true.
nice work.
fine.
"It isn't frightening to look at
until it comes for you
and what your heart holds precious.
Horror wears an ordinary face."
Yes. Good piece. *
very effective
Thanks to all for having a look at this.