The Faces
Electronics allowed them access
Into our mundane world of matter.
Pixels formed inhuman images
Within the pastoral background scenes
On my glimmering monitor screen.
I gazed into their dark, glaring eyes,
Mesmerized by the peculiar sight.
Fear began to take hold of my heart
When their frowning mouths started to move
In silent semblance of angry speech.
More and more frightening faces formed
Out of coloured rows of glowing dots.
I felt a cold chill creep down my spine
And pulled the plug, but it was too late.
They crossed the dimensional threshold.
My heart raced as I tried to escape.
Crooked noses emerged from the jamb,
Evil orbs peered from the stained panels,
The door came alive with chomping maws.
I screamed and fell to the rippling floor.
I sensed suckling lips pressed against me,
Feeding upon my very essence.
Desperation drove me to my feet.
I ran across a squirming carpet
Of dreadfully distorted features.
Blind, thoughtless instinct led me upstairs.
My frantic mind ignored the mad leers
That looked out from each jutting corner
And watched from the darkening shadows
Of every single wretched grey wall.
Stopped short by a horrible vision,
I stood before the bathroom mirror.
The pale visage dimly reflected
In that hateful pane of silvered glass
Filled my tormented soul with terror.
The fearful face that stared back at me
Was not my own.
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Authors: Richard H. Fay. Form: Illustrated, Poem. Length: 37 lines. Editor who accepted this story: Previous Editors. Reprint History: The Ashen Eye, Issue 1, June 2008







