It started with pebbles at the window, <br />when no one was in sight. <br />For about a week this went on, <br />at 8pm precise every night. <br />Then came the opening and closing doors, <br />by some unseen hand any hour of the day. <br />Furniture moved around on it their accord, <br />then the voices came, <br />arguing from somewhere. <br />Continual searches of each room, <br />but nothing was found there. <br />Suddenly it stopped, and harmony reined. <br />There was a rest bite for what was yet to come. <br />Several weeks passed peace and quiet remained. <br />Then as suddenly as it had stopped, it started up again. <br />Lights switched themselves on and off, <br />object flew across the room of their own accord, <br />small and large. <br />Pictures flew off the wall <br />and smashed to the floor. <br />Then came the knocks on the door, <br />with no one ever there. <br />The television gained a mind of its own, <br />switch on and off and changing channels at will. <br />Then things began to disappear, <br />we look for them still, <br />it was beginning to drive us crazy, <br />finally, we were at our wits end, <br />and priest we called in, <br />but whatever drove him away, <br />he never came back for a prayer to say. <br />We seemed to be stranded in this house, <br />that once we called our home, <br />and that has now become our hell.<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-hell/
