I found a Halloween book at DI yesterday

It had this poem in it. And it chilled me to the bone.

THE HAUNTED HOUSE
-victoria crume

Not a window was broken.
And the paint wasn't peeling,
Not a porch step sagged--
Yet, there was a feeling

That beyond the door
And into the hall
This was the house of
No one at all.

No one who breathed
Nor laughed, nor ate
Nor said "I Love,"
Nor said "I Hate."

Yet something walked
Along the stair
Something that was
And wasn't there.

And that is why weeds
On the path grow high,
And even the moon
Races fearfully by--

For something walks
Along the stairs--
Something that is
And isn't there.


HAPPY HOLIDAYS.