“There was something in the basement . . .”
There was something in the basement . . .
A girl cowered in her bed at night and listened
To a mournfully somber wail that echoed
Through the floor of her room, imprisoned.
A phantom’s moan, a grim horrid sound
Risen between floorboards like a dreadful bane.
Then too was the scratching, an insistent rasp
Of claws on cement, of something in pain.
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A collection of very unusual verse, ranging from wacky to dark to narrative. Lori R. Lopez writes her . . .
What terrors lurk in the blackest regions of a cellar, amidst dusty cobwebbed shelves, in the glass jars . . .
A rich gathering of poetry with a dismal twilight atmosphere, a brooding nature, an eerie tone . . . . .