Scratch, Scratch, Scratch
Scratch, scratch, scratch. What was that?
My imagination that haunts me? Or the noise from under the floor?
My sister come to talk to me; come to do me harm?
She was my friend at one time, but now I’m not so sure.
She scares me with her intentions, maybe means to hurt me?
Surely, she means me no mischief? But that is what she knows best.
Scratch, scratch, scratch. I hear it again
Its seems to be coming closer, under the bed now?
The covers I pull over my head to hide from the thing I can’t see
I listen for the sound, but nothing is produced
Maybe she is gone? Back to Hell, I hope.
That is where mommy says she is, and I have no reason to doubt.
For demons reside there and languish in grief
They gnash their teeth and weep with the fiends
Scratch, scratch, scratch. There it is again, closer I think.
Not under, but above, I can’t tell, but I will continue to hide
My fear is great, and I know what she can do
I watched her descend into evil, denounce what was sacred
Once she was my sister but changed when talking to the board.
She signed a pact, with another that was evil.
Why she did, I don’t know, but now she wants me;
I feel she will stop at nothing to own my soul.
Scratch, scratch, scratch. Now it’s in the closet.
I’m trembling, but must peek, with covers away from my face.
I see the toys fall from their shelves, once neatly in place.
They fall to the floor, but one slides out for me to see.
The Ouija board my sister once owned is before me now,
I hear the laughter of children from within the closet; they are playing I think.
A gray, shriveled arm comes from the dark of the closet.
Scratch, scratch, scratch, it goes, illuminated by moonlight from the window,
Lines of shadow from the partially open shade stripe the arm and I count them
One, two, three, four? Then the darkness hides the rest of the thing from within the closet
I hear my name from the nether region that is the place I hang my clothes
But it seems that it is now where she resides, she whispers, but what is it I hear?
The laughter of children or the whispers of demons?
The guide on the board begins to move and spells out a name
I watch as it moves, a detriment to my character, for I am good
Momma tells me so and explains that my sister played with dark forces
That she had no business to understand or comprehend.
Scratch, scratch, scratch. The board makes the sound, as the arm guides it to spell letters,
My name again and then something else. J…o…i…n…m…e
I jump back against the wall and scream, as the arm pulls the board back into the closet.
Momma is at the door within seconds, pounding as hard as she can,
“Come in! Please come in!” I say as loud as I can, as she enters the room.
“What is wrong my child?” she says with the sweetest tone.
“I saw her, I think, she was in the closet and asked me to come.”
“Your sister has returned?” she says with an air of disbelief.
Scratch, scratch, scratch. “Did you hear it, momma?”
“Hear what?” the last word she says as the closet bursts open and the thing within takes her.
It is gray and green with a shriveled face and dark sockets where eyes once were;
I recognize it is some semblance of what my sister used to be.
“Momma!” I scream in anguish. “Don’t take her, please. It’s me you want!”
The Ouija board slides out again and I see the guide move all by itself.
T…h…i…s…w…i…l…l…d…o, is spelled out for me.
I hear no scratch, scratch, scratch now, but cower here in the dark.
Will I ever have peace? Will this torture leave? I fear not.
I take the board and begin to spell. What will I find?
Abhorrence to the light, for my sister, is a proprietor of the dark domain.
She wishes me to join her still, for she has taken my mother.
This I will, but not without help. When she last tried, I was but a girl.
Now I’m older and have wisdom, this priest will help me,
Then maybe I can rid her of her captive and bring my mother back to me.
This poem originally appeared in Horrorzine Summer of 2017