Poem:Horror

Why must you remind me and inquire,
About when the old house burned up'n fire?
I will tell you what I recall of that dreadful night,
And hope that I can tell it right.

My friend had found a mysterious book,
Locked in a case, hidden in a nook,
Locked inside a sturdy oak chest,
Locked in the attic that the rats infest,

With it came a note from long ago,
The writing on it seemed to glow,
 "You must be smart," is what it read,
"Leave this Family Book alone instead"

As if anticipating that it we would open,
Unleashing secrets: the seal had been broken.
Though before we did so we found another note,
More ancient than the other, on it was wrote,

Instructions to hold a séance to "unlock" the tome,
And let the spirits of the underworld roam.
So people we gathered and candles we lit,
And in a circle round the "Family Book" did we sit.

The Books title's language was obscure, difficult to have read,
"The worst curse ever visited on the people" it said.
What it advertised below it seemed strange for a book;
"To know what unhappiness means, open this and have a look."

It grew dark and as instructed we began to chant.
The foreign words seemed like an angry bitter rant.
The book seemed to rustle, then opened on its own
A sudden wind from the floor chilled us to the bone,

Everyone seemed frozen in place but I broke free,
Because what I saw was too much for me,
Out of the book sprang creatures, translucent and joyous
Made of fire, screaming and crying, of an appearance hideous.

What they were I could not say
But I'll bet they were from far away.
What happened next is also unclear
You would be stunned too with Hell so near.

John was attacked, literally sliced into slivers
Blood flowed from gashed flesh, knives quivered
When saw I demons dangling from rafters of wood,
Whittling out whistles of bone, I knew I should,

Back away from it all,
Lest into the sway would I fall,
Then I saw a barrel in the corner far-most
And the barrel was a whipping post

And I needn’t say what happened when poor Joe
Was tied to the barrel. Guess, if you do not know.
Now from the Family Book a drum arose
Giving rhythm to the demons’ singing’s prose

It is something that will never leave my mind,
For there is nothing on Earth of its kind,
In the strange rhythmic way they beat the drum
So that a shadow into a demon would become,

And play the piano in the room, and it swayed,
I remember the sweet music they played,
As if mocking the harmony of our world,
‘Fore smashing it to bits with talons which unfurled,

And behind me was a certain knock on the door
Which seemed to shock the demons to the core.
What horror had come whence to make fear on every face adorn?
After not being answered, from its hinges the door was torn.

Into the house glided formless black smoke
Covered creepily by a hooded black cloak
The Demons fled or vanished on the spot
The new being seemed to be deep in thought

Suddenly he too disintegrated into the air
Leaving nothing but ash to show he was there
I staggered outside as the Book burst into fire
Then the whole house was caught by the flame’s ire.

The old Family Book was burned up right then.
Don’t say anything of this story, bear the burden if you can.
For I swear these people existed, they were friends of mine.
Though there is no record of them or the house at this time.

The Book predicted true: unhappiness met them at the threshold,
And they were engulfed by secrets best left untold,
Locked in that book were horrors of another plane
That night they were unleashed, so hither they came.