When the wind blows in the withering trees
And the storm rumbles from far away,
When the night is dark and the moon is full
And the walls of your house creak and sway.
You are all alone within this house,
Sitting in the silence of your darkened room,
And in that dark you hear faint voices
Drifting out from somewhere in the gloom.
But sitting in the silence by yourself
You cannot help that your mind gets to thinking
That maybe you’re indeed not all alone here,
You start to feel your pounding heart is sinking.
It is a ghost, you think, listening more,
The house is haunted, is a perfect explanation
For the bumps and thumps and shivers up your spine,
For hauntings often cause a cold sensation.
You wrap your blanket tight around your shoulders,
But the knitting doesn’t keep you warm,
Though nothing’s happened yet and you consider
Maybe this phantasm doesn’t mean you harm.
But then another thought disturbs your rationale,
A horrible thought that fills your soul with dread,
That maybe, just maybe, it’s only you in there,
That the terrible haunting is simply in your head.
But what if it is and what if it isn’t?
It really doesn’t matter either way,
For no one’s there to hear you scream,
You cannot leave until the light of day.