Drip Part 4: The Song of the Dead

If you listen closely
On moonlit verandas
You'll hear us calling
For loved ones we miss,
We'll send the choppers
To bring you to our arms,
The ones we adore
Please do come, we insist.
We're closing in,
There's no way you can stop us
Coming to get you,
Always get what we want.
Hear the drips in the hallway,
The locks click, turning,
No way you can run
From our midnight haunt.
The rushing and gushing,
The pull of a trigger,
The creak of a noose
As it swings from the rafter,
The haze is a-coming,
The scythe tap tap tapping,
Our chanting getting frantic
Our race getting faster.
We're coming to get you
Whether now at this moment
Or fifty years on
When you're withered and frail,
Tie stones to your ankles
Then push you over,
Sinking just sinking
So blue and so pail.
Can you hear the dripping?
Blood's thicker than water
But they both hit the floor
With a sickening splash.
Can you hear the dripping?
Our corpse call a-sounding,
Can you hear the pounding,
The flesh being slashed?
Can you hear the dripping?
The children a-weeping?
The lover keening
Hands round your neck?
Can you hear the dripping?
Knock knock? Come in please.
If you hear the dripping
It means you're next...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Oh hey there Row.' I called, walking down the front steps and sitting on the grass. There he was, my buddy plonked cross-legged in the middle of the lawn while moving men huffed and puffed. 'New guys?'

'Yup.' he sighed, leaning back on his snowy elbows. 'Another lot come to defile her.' he looked up behind him at the old buttermilk façade of Van Der Beere House. 'A family of sorts.'

'Of sorts?'

'Yeah. They've no father. He left them.'

'Well there's nothing wrong with that.' I grunted, lowering myself down beside him.

'To your generation.' he grumbled, watching in disapproval as a lime corner couch was carried in. 'Gosh, they're feeding her crap.'

'We both know she's a maneater Row.' I chuckled. He just nodded in agreement, staring off in thought rubbing the patches on the sleeves of his tweed jacket. 'How long d'you think 'til Virgil starts up.'

'I don't know but I don't want to be there.' he mumbled. 'I'm going to stay in the attic 'til it's done and she's put her kids heads in the gas oven and shot herself.'

'Now why miss out on all the action?'

'Because I wasn't twisted by her unlike you Jonah.' he replied, looking me dead in the eyes. 'I still have some degree of morals.' He got up brushing himself down. 'I don't want to be here when they come. Do me a favour and don't swing that back door too hard when you're creeping them out. It'll break soon.' He trudged up the lawn, barely rustling the fallen leaves.

'Will do Row.' I called after him. He stopped and patted the railings on the steps.

'You hungry Amelia?' he whispered, looking up at her windows. A blind twitched in the attic. He nodded and slid through the wall, unnoticed.

I looked up too, watching as a wet handprint was left where the curtain had moved. The growl of an SUV engine interuppted me and I watched, unseen as the new family arrived. Two boys, a teenage girl and a mom. 'This'll be fun. Get a good feeding in you girl.' I chuckled before running through one of the walls to a chorus of did-you-say-something's.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our legions are growing,
Reaping the corn,
Ripe at the harvest
Your souls in our grasp.
Can you hear the dripping?
The call of The Coming?
Enjoy that meal
It'll be your last...