By BROOKE DONALDSON
13 years old
New Plymouth Girls’ High School
Like the steady beats of a drum,
We march, our feet slapping the ground.
A sudden sound echoes through the silence,
Others gasp as night falls,
But the sights that horrified us once,
Are now expected in this sickening sludge.
It’s darker now, but we still walk in time,
The lanterns are now flickering,
Illuminating our tired minds.
With blood pumping through our veins,
We are alive on the sound of our midnight wanderings,
As we walk with fragile pain.
Death seems to stare us in the eye,
Heartbeats away from an eternal sleep,
He whispers, time to fly,
We stagger in a helpless daze,
Caught up in the surprise,
But a voice echoes through the darkness,
Only a scream of what we left behind.
Emotionless, unspeaking, hearts are rapidly beating,
We stomp through the town of the dead,
The moonlight, it’s making shadows,
We are suddenly filled with dread.
A mask of clouded terror, a storm of dark despair,
Onward we trudge, but we cower in fear.
We turn our heads to the sign of life,
And thank the ones who made it light,
While we were in the graveyard,
For it surely is a scary place,
In a ghost town full of a unified race,
The same because of only one thing-
They’re dead, they’re dead,
And it’s Halloween.