Late at night, the silence cleaved, with sudden bluster, on All Hallows’ Eve.
Winds rose to stir the trees, rattled my nerves, shutters and doors.
As I settled, still somnolent, I realized the dark portent.
My eyes widened at whispered words, whispered as softly as the coo of birds.
“Your time has come,” a voice did say, words ominous, and they did weigh.
I prayed the voice would go away.
A payment due, deferment over, on that last night of October;
the years too swiftly passed, brief as a lightning flash, little more.
Desperately did I want more time, to live the humble life of mine,
a life complete with my soul mate. Ah, the vicissitudes of fate.
Only eternity would be enough to spend with Genevieve,
my life with her, a dream.
Slightly warped floorboards creaked; I peered into the shadows to seek,
the source of the disembodied message, delivered to my door.
When, from out behind a curtain, a ghost appeared, I was certain.
Mouth agape, I lay stock-still, cold emanations stole my will.
“Your time has come,” a stern repeat, no chance I could entreat.
From my room, I sought retreat.
Captured by a skeletal claw, extended from a pitch black maw,
“Unhand me!” I cried, vociferously. “Unclaw me, as it were!”
The Specter yanked me off my feet; I dangled like a side of beef.
We glided toward the outer wall; I looked back to My Love, and called.
Her angelic countenance was calm, Genevieve began to look so small,
from my sight, she vanished, bed and all.
Descended through fire, crematory, to what I presumed, was Purgatory.
Scorched, blistered, my skin and more, agony I had not known before.
I screamed in vain, and without voice, screamed because I had no choice.
Tortured by all manner and means, I lamented my lost Genevieve.
As my tears vaporized to steam, I ached for my heavenly Genevieve.
For the love I had lost … I grieved.
As flesh fell from my charred bones, they scraped to marrow with knives honed,
then gripped, irreverently, my soul, ripped it from the greater whole.
My consciousness begged for release, for that torment at last to cease.
At some point I had lost all sense, I rested my pro forma defense,
my spirit no longer could cope, I surrendered the last vestiges of hope.
Was my existence just a joke?
Suddenly, the sound of harps, and light surrounded, while all else dark.
Arrayed about me, Seraphim, their natures radiated peace.
I begged of them their intervention, to end my most infernal detention.
Their smiles were as a shower of brilliant stars from above.
I heard/felt/thought, through empathy, the essence they were thereof,
a universe of Divine love.
All at once, and without further delay, next to Genevieve I lay.
I kissed her gently on smiling eyelids that then fluttered.
One eye popped open to see the time; “Your turn to walk the dog,” she muttered.
I got up, put on Chrys’s leash with pleasure, and stepped out the door.
Every moment with Genevieve, I would treasure, not trick or treat, but more.
My one true love for evermore.
M. Zane McClellan
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