HORROR Poem: Who Dare Rings a Bell?, by Kimberly Anne

Who dare ring the bell for safe haven
On a night of winter’s first snow?

The world is silent, minus the beating of his heart.

The blood rushes, whooshing and pushing through his ears.

All is silent except for the sound
of pumping blood and fears.

“Ring”, yells the bell. There’s a loud knock on the door. Who could it be?

The postman always rings twice.
Yet, Zachary always rings thrice,
the bell so I know it is not he!

“Please help! Please help! Let me in!”
Cries the voice echoing in the void from
the Otherside.

Thick lies terror like smog in the air.
Breath begins to fail while ears can’t hear. Smells reminiscent of things most foul.
The terror, the terror as the bell rings. Adrenaline and a knock again.

So wide his fear it tears a slash through the skies of the black night.
A gash, a wound red, so red it resembles the Blood moon.

Loud, so loud, I could practically taste the flesh in my mouth. Cold and fresh, winter’s flesh, lost
under the moon, and to me, they wander ringing for help and they can’t help they don’t know
any better! A mere mortal far from a mystical one, a grin glides across my face. I hear it still with
my ear against the thick wooden door. I peek through and see him. My heart begins to race so
fast. The bell rings again, and faster this time. Louder now. I can’t wait to see my lover’s face.

The bell, it won’t stop. Ring, ring, ring, and it chimes reminiscent of grandfather’s cuckoo clock,
handmade Bavarian. Cared for and carved with technique so pristine. It is a skill set rare in this
day. Hands are not as patient as they once were.

Ring, ring, yells the bell. “Let me in, please!” This must be a dream.
The poor soul dare ring and knock on my door after I’ve waited too long now.

Sitting aloft a pile of pillows silky and soft, blackened with lace.
Camouflaged and transparent, I am sitting in silk like a spider I wait to spin!
I must spin and spin yet again as he rings and rings let me in let me in!

Until at once, at last, I open the door.
He is now within my web, within my hands, in my grasp, the ring of the bell has finally stopped
and the sounds all disappear. Mostly. He put up a fight as they always do.

All except the silent sound of horrors and whooshing, whooshing, blood-pumping fear.
Never is it too late to trap and devour although for him lateness came too quickly now I spin.
Weaving his fate all while he unknowing, a sorry soul, knocking on the wrong door, ringing the
wrong bell. I cannot wait to see my lover’s face.

For if his luck is bad then mine is great. Now he sits aloft with me alone on a pile of pillows,
hanging silken sheets, and velvet throws, and wrapped in tight he screams faintly with fright
wondering how ringing a bell could make his life hell. And this one is plump and filled with meat.
He will make a delectable treat for my Queen.

I answer the call of the bells
which ring to dispel
the bad ones.

My love who they call through
Chant and song to protect
The good ones.

A Silken Spider Queen
With fangs to haunt dreams
As poison gleams and glistens
Down pale skin, sinking deeper into him.
I watch her feast on his features in the darkest corner of the hall.
Venom ripples, blood in waves, and finally, it slows down.
Underneath the moon, the ground is frozen and full of ice.
Everything is frozen stuck
in time and in that one moment, I have to serve my lover, my Queen.

And once more the bell rings, and the cycle of nature is promising if you treat her right.
Who could it be?! Who could it be? A mistake they’ve made coming to my door and now they
will know fear intimately like never before.

With her belly full, and fangs oozing and dripping
the remains my Queen starts to laugh and she says,
“They will pray and plead and beg,
to live and to leave,
to tell the tales of my lair of silk
but instead, death becomes them.
Let us watch as death changes their shapes and shifts their faces.
Spinning limbs, on a whim I sit and I wait. Once more on a night of first snow.”

“Ring, ring, ring!” And there the bell goes