At Midnight

At Midnight

T’was midnight,
If I can recall.
I woke up and wandered into the hall.

The rooms I passed,
Were silent as ever
However,
My brother’s wasn’t.

Walking in rather slowly,
I looked towards his bed.
On the top of his head,
Layed a hand,
So white and boney.

I shrieked! I cried!
Though fairly silent.
His glare, on the other hand, was quite violent.

“Pardon me, sir.” Said I, “But this is no time,
For visits. May you come back when there is light?”
Without a word,
He staggered over to me with all his might.

He approached me sooner than I thought.
For I could now see what before I could not.
He was made from complete bone,
No skin.
I knew who he was.

“Sir! Please! No! It is not my time!
Please, I beg of thee sir!
I did not commit any crime!”
I was afraid of him,
Oh so much.
He then withdrew his scythe,
In which I stepped back a touch.

“Sir! Please! I confess!
I never did anything!
Please sir! I will protest!”

It was too late,
His scythe was at my throat.
With one movement of his boney arm,
I would be dead,
And engulfed within the black cloak.

“Sir! Please! I beg of thee!
Death’s pet, listen to me!
I’m too young to leave,
I need to stay!
Please! Sir! Oh Please!
Don’t kill me yet!”

I felt the scythe leave my throat,
And at the moment he stepped back,
Disappearing nonetheless,
Leaving a note.

Picking it up,
I looked to my brother’s bed.
How could he sleep through all that?
Wouldn’t he have heard my voice?
Wouldn’t he awake and be ever so red?

I opened the note,
Taking a seat in a chair.
I slowly began to read it,
Thinking how that was unfair.

The note simply stated,
“I am the Reaper,
And at Midnight I dwell.
My job, little child,
Is something I shall not tell.
You must have heard,
Stories about the Reaper.
And those stories are true.
Watch out, little girl.
One day, I will come for you.”