Terror in November! (A poem)
It was a cold wintry morning in November. The sky outside was gray and overbearing, once again heavy laden with the threat of yet another wintry storm.
We had been without power six of the last 10 days and I was hesitant to venture out beyond the reassuring warmth of my bed covers.
Just then I heard!
What at first sounded like scratching, maybe a mouse in the attic - but no the sound was much too strong for the sound of one mouse, even several mice.
As the noise became more distinct I sat up in bed and now I could discern what sound like pushing and shoving trying to get out.
We have a pull down ladder to the attic just off the main bed room so whatever was up there had only one way out-through my bedroom!
Just then my son came into our bedroom, fear etched deep on his face,
Dad, dad did you hear that? There’s definitely something or someone in the attic and they are trying to get out.
A torrent of thoughts rush through my head, each one more frightening than the last. What should we do?
Do we call the police? Do I get my trusty baseball bat, pull down the ladder to the attic and my son and I do battle with whatever it is - this thing or things trying so desperately to get out of the attic?
Just then my wife sits up in bed and cheerfully announces,
Isn’t today the day we bring down the Christmas decorations from the attic? They must be dying to get out.
Don’t you just love this season?
Merry Christmas.
P.S. I write a lot more than just political stuff.
Bob Grier
Kingston
