He makes things go bump at night,
So the natural reaction is to scream;
But why not enjoy the terror?

A dark tunnel enshrouds his face,
And a dark tunnel is where he found me.
One in which I had managed to get myself lost.

He was the liveliest zombie of the horror house,
Even though he was supposed to be dead,
He was tuned to all those surrounding movements.

He wasn’t emaciated or fowl like the others,
But he was the darkest of them all. Seeming to blend
into what becomes unseen when stars peak.

Whispering doom through his movements,
Raven eye cape fluttering over the floor,
Giving him presence of a falcon.

I couldn’t see his funeral shoes patty caking under him,
Reeking of the slaughtered dead cow, now entombing his feet,
Sound sufficed.
His hair buzzed so short that I wondered if he’s ever been to prison,
His gaze said “maybe”.
Still, I felt no need to be cautious.

His icy eyes, daggers to the soul,
making screamers puke hurricanes,
of fear, I remained silent.

He was never loud his voice had a tenderness,
I had never encountered. No one could hear him over the noise.
I could once the others fled to see the sun.

The zombie rewarded me to my confusion,
He led me to the tree of life which I took,
And I wear that Celtic knot to this day.