A Curious Excursion

A Curious Excursion

A Curious Excursion
  Spoken word link
    I saw her near a deserted band of old coal miner’s cottages. They were nestled in a stand of tall arthritic pines that creaked in the fall breeze. I enjoyed walking through these old woods, especially in the fall when the scent of pine needles mixed with the musty odor of the fallen leaves.

    I heard such anguish in her cry… it pierced me like a chalkboard screech. Not so much screams of defiance, but a sheer echo of foreboding could be heard in the brief pauses of her wail. The resonance in this silence was so heavy with hollow I could barely motion, the crunch and rustle of my footsteps felt like booming rumbles.


    I did not want to follow that sound; it filled me with such a sense of dread. But even in the promise that what I would discover most surely would remain impressed upon me forever, I had to see. I bargained to myself that at the very least perhaps I could console her of this most wretched despair.  Sensing her voice getting nearer the metallic taste of adrenaline gripped me in my final reluctant steps… 
     
Her pale skin cast a stark silhouette
Against the fall leaves strewn about the ground
She jerked and swayed like a marionette
Stumbling heedless in a state of confound

She was so striking in spite of her death
Battered and bruised in her tattered silk gown
Revealing marks along the curves of her chest
Burning my eyes with a wretched account

I hid behind a tree stunned and possessed
Desiring so dearly not to be found
With a quick jerk of her head she expressed
A wail as countless voices keened resound

Beholding this languish I dropped in distress
Tears fell from my eyes as hers then met mine
She averted her gaze as she progressed
I stilled with terror froze in fates resign

So effortlessly she
Lift me to my knees
Quaking as she gripped me
I could see it wasn’t me
It was she that was shaking
Her lips moved in plea
But she could only screech
In terrifying screams
I watched her eyes beseech
And in my soul she reached
I saw the solemn scenes
As if I was in dream…

She wore a violet dress
Her midriff tied with her fancies ribbon
Tonight she would express
Her heart in song, she’ll sing with soulful rhythm

Her raven hair so black
It eclipsed the night sky to blushing blue
A guitar on her back
She walked with delight for her dreams pursue

Her first shows tonight
Drawing courage as she climbed to the stage
Her voice soon took flight
In lilting, lifting, longing, lays of grace

Nary a dry eye
Was seen in the room as she closed her case
As she slowly sighed
she stumbled out of the silenced bar doorway

A smile in her pace
As she walked the forest path to her home
But three men gave chase
As she ran her head got struck with a stone

I watched them beat and bash
Stealing her heart for a moments pleasure
Took trophy of her sash
As they defiled her true earthly treasure

And I cried
Screeched screamed
Begged pleaded
And screaked
Shrills of revile
I joined
The legion voices
Keening
As she laid
Naked
Shaking
Discarded
Luxury

No longer afraid
I laid next to her
To still her tremble
As a pin drop quiets reverence
Breezed thru the canopy
As she drew her last breath

    I awoke the next day at the place I had knelt. I was holding a single skeletal hand protruding the ground next to me. In my hazy torpor I sat up still shivering from the night’s exposure. Suddenly I heard her voice as if she was standing behind me. She whispered my name and a warm wave slowly caressed my whole body. It was then that I realized I would never love another more deeply than her. This specter that can make the midnight sky blush.

    After reporting my discovery, I found myself sitting at the local police station. A detective holding a pristine violet ribbon sash walked over to me. His ashen face visibly stunned as he spoke “Sir where did you get this?” Shaking his head in disbelief, he explained that he discovered this laying across my bed. “This matches the victims dress… I would arrest you for suspicion of murder, but that body has been there for over 60 years!” 

© 2020 Robert Trakofler

© Robert Trakofler - 10-21-20-07:33 AM


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I posted this one for you Mr. Ghost:)
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Oh, the heartbreak, the pure tradegy, the life events. The ghostly afterlife. This is a delicate, well written, super creative, work of pure poetic ambition.

Loved it! Thanks for posting this tale of mastered tales.
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I'm glad you liked it!
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Added 10-21-20

About Author

Bio
I have an antiques & vintage clothing store that's also an art gallery and vegan restaurant. I use the space as a venue for poetry and music as well as for filming and photography. I am an aesthete I have a deep love for artful expressions in myriad forms. I have always been a poet but i am also a drummer and a singer and lyric writer. I enjoy repurposing my unsold antiques and trash (whatever I find) into other things and sell them. My business is minimal waste, what i don't sell I give away to food banks I even recycle my food prep waste to a local worm farm and land reclamation project. This is the theme of me… I was discarded trash somehow I managed to survive the streets, homelessness a... [More]...

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