Friday, January 6, 2012


     I'm not really sure what to call this. I think I'll say it's a Prose Poem. For those of you who don't know, a prose poem is a work of literature written within the conventions of prose, but with sharing certain qualities with poetry. Think of it as poem written like a story. For more information, read the Wikipedia article here. And now, here is my feeble attempt at this little known form:


During my years in the institution, to distract myself from the stupidity of the doctors, I began a search, a search motivated by pure curiosity: a search for the most frightening word in the English language, and on a wet day in a dim cell in a dark corner, I found it. The word is Something. Many of you may object, but I intend to dispel your doubts with a brief series of contexts, and you will see that I am right.

Last night I saw Something  at the window, but I'm not sure what it was.

The legends say that there is a cave high in the mountains, but none dare enter it, for they know that Something is waiting for them inside.

Now Tommy, don't go wandering in the woods again, because there's Something else wandering in them too.

Mommy, I can't sleep! There's Something under my bed!

Why does he always keep his basement door closed? I think he's hiding Something in there.

It's no mystery why we're afraid of the dark: because we're afraid there could be Something in it.

Sometimes I look at the stars and think it's amazing that the universe is so vast. But other times I shudder, feeling that feeling in my gut that there's Something out there.

Have you ever had the feeling that there's Something right behind you?

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