Part XII and Andrew Smith

(Part 12 is a realisation you could say and providing some background about Andy which hasn’t been realised before)

(Our next poet is by my good friend Andrew Smith, who I know more as a musician in bands such as Plain Jane, August and M.A.N. to name but three and after realising the hints of the monster wrote his own very version of it with two pieces so far submitted and maybe a third afterwards)

Part 12

‘You know me?’

Andy looked at Ghana

His words trailing

Off into a fragment,

Rivering into confusion

Then a slight fear

Of just what he had let himself

Be conned into

Opening his eyes

To alleyways

He had previously

Dimissed as

Of no interest,

His job as a bank clerk

Now an silent shimmer

Fighting for attention

In his conscious

His mum and dad

Who no doubt

Would have been out dining

With in altrincham

And both of his brothers

Laden with something

He couldn’t understand

When she called him

The light bringer.

Movement in the dark, damp space

The air is stifling, a thickness against my skin

as I wait for my colleagues to enter

so the maintenance can begin.

The tunnel is cramped, dark and the stench

makes you gag and breath a rasp

the floor is wet with mildew

with no support on which to grasp

I hate this place beneath the streets

the muffled noises unclear

but there is one sound, a scraping sound

that fills my senses with fear.

It comes with stops and starts

a muffled sniffling as well

so difficult to sense the distance away

but sounds like something from hell

My hackles would ordinarily stay down

as we get all sorts of creatures down here

bugs, rats and turtles

'pets' flushed down at the end of each year

Its a relief to hear the laughter

banter to lift the air

but before they have reached the bottom rung

up ahead I see a red, angry stare.

The eyes look almost human

at a height not dissimilar to mine

but they squint as if searching

invisible teeth that start to grind

I would like to say I was brave

and my rational brain kicks in

but something just isn't right here

this silhouette appears humanly grim.

As my team splash into view

their laughter is cut off

the smallest of screams emits from one

as he appears to be held aloft

a dripping trickle hits the ground

a spray across my face

a metallic warmth that brings up bile

Is this blood that I can taste?!

I hear the others running

I can't move, my feet seem stuck

I've no idea into which tunnel they ran

As it comes, I'm out of luck.

My feet slowly take me backwards

and I stumble over my friend behind

he's lifeless, a lead weight that bowls me down

and I scream at what I find

people with eyes as red as ruby

feasting on his corpse

and still those eyes approach in front

those malice-filled hungry orbs

pain replaced by numbness

as my flesh is peeled away

The rat people are feasting

on a new kind of prey.