Writing is scrawled

Across a page

Torn and crinkled and

Bleached with age

 

The ink is black

A sharp contrast

To the dulled paper

From the past

 

I cannot tell

What it could mean

For it is old and

my eyes aren’t keen

 

It could be fantasy

A story of magic

Or a long recount

Of a war ‘twas so tragic

 

But might it be….

 

A hidden message

Amid the lines

Could the words,

Actually be signs?

 

Signs to tell me

A secretive note

My breath catches

In my throat

 

That must be the truth

I must have found

A mysterious letter that had been

Buried in the ground

 

I scan the page

One last time

And I feel my whole body

Turn to slime

 

Because I see something

Near the end of the scroll

Something so terrifying

It shatters my soul

 

This creepy, old letter

Was signed by a name

Which makes my head spin

And sets my mind aflame

 

I squeeze my eyes shut

At the sight of the line

Because the name at the

End of the writing…

 

…is mine.