The abandoned warehouse,
known by the locals,
visited by a handful of tourists.
Infamous for the,
occultic, eccentric,
the eerie effect that anyone who goes witnesses.
James stepped through the gaping maw of hell,
that used to be the delivery door.
Now, it delivers terror,
but nothing will stop his bravery,
his fervour.
Dared by his classmates,
on the day of their school leaving,
the rain was heaving.
Down the steps onto the ground floor,
darkness in every direction,
this is ground zero.
For the warehouse was abandoned,
after a great fire, years ago,
no one knows the cause,
or wants to find out more.
A chill had crept up James’ spine,
the noises had begun,
the ticking came from 11 o’clock.
Tock.
The sound of the switch on the flashlight,
illuminating the inky dark.
The moment it lands at the source of the sound,
nothing, no-one, only silence.
Then once again,
this time a chittering,
like the bristling of a thousand cockroaches,
spreading across the tin walls.
With a flash of movement,
the torch light arced,
still nothing,
a queer quiet.
It might be the wind,
or the rain,
the rustling of tarpaulin left to age.
In the words he found,
“ghosts aren’t real,
but the ones that live within us are”,
comfort, control, quivering soul.
It had been fifteen minutes,
since entering this void of dread.
It hadn’t been that bad,
the sounds he “understood”,
he could go back, a conqueror,
head up high, strong,
he’d faced the strain,
without much pain.
Drip, drop.
The only sound that remained,
was a lofty leak, fair game.
The rain was done,
the wind had died,
no more rustling,
nothing creaked,
“roaches” gone, hiding.
Absolute peace and calm.
Clunk, the torch sunk.
Crack, the light turned black.