(no subject)

[darchildre]

Monsters yesterday, general creepy today.


Silent Hill, by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Anne says she dreams sometimes -- and so do I
About the child we say go by.
In the late afternoon we saw her pass,
Slowly and without a sound. The deep grass
Bent before her, as where a soft wind goes.
Except we know that no wind ever blows
The dark deep grass on Silent Hill.

My grandma says that back before her day,
There was a fine house there upon the crest
Where now a blackened chimney leans to rest
Against the sky. And now and then nearby,
Like a leaf of ash, a dark bird drifts without a cry.
Nothing else goes there. No boy climbs up to play.
Even the wild deer seem to keep away.
But Anne is not afraid. And sometimes we go near
To listen to the soft hush, deep as fear,
Heavy smoke, that seems to hang there still,
Where only dreams walk now -- on Silent Hill.

Anne says she dreams sometimes -- and so do I --
About the child we saw go by,
On Silent Hill.