Writer writes about a wall of death,
On this wall are people names that have died,
From coming in contact of this wall;
This reminds us of who have come before me.
Now I sit at my desk with careless whisper,
Guiding my thoughts to tell you the truth,
In this abandon hotel similar to Bates Motel,
No pretty lady to keep me company.
As I begin to type I feel a little light headed,
I see flashes of a past life, not my own,
I see blood stains on the walls,
Hand smudges across the floor,
Bodies just being drag along the surface.
All the blood seems to start from the lounge,
To lead to the kitchen onto the porch,
Only for restless night to be ended in horror,
I try to focus continue to type this story,
Pair of hands grabs mine making me type faster, (fear)
Fear runs into the death of my soul,
As the whisper is now of normal ghostly speech,
Telling me 'Don't be afraid.Why should I be afraid?
Is there a dark sinister end for me by this spectre?
As the spectre looks at me with secret intentions,
What is going on behind those ghostly red eyes?
As the story starts with people coming to the place,
For me not to the see fate by this murderous ghost,
That is install for my meat flesh soul body,
I am to be his next victim to have my life cut short.
I listen to the story for 30 minutes as a mist forms,
In that mist I see worried scared ghostly faces.
As they gather in ones and twos then over 40,
I am surrounded by the murderer victims.
Trying to tell they story of murderous deeds have happen here.
One of the spirits tries to warn me 'Get out while you can!
I try to move away from the desk, only to be slammed against the wall.
Now I float in the air being taken back to the seat where I must type,
I see words that are not of my own, as they are type. I read.
'You are witnessing my murders of 49 people I have killed,
I have dragged to the bathroom and drowned,
To hide the evidence I would cut the bodies up with an axe.
Then I would take the pieces and make a stew for the locals,
They would eat the victims without knowing.
That is what you seeing with blood red stains across the walls,
Even when I was hanged outside by the locals after they found out.
When I was outside one day cutting up young girl, I was spotted.
Postman was delivering letters to me and saw my heinous crime,
Reported me to the law of this pathetic town,
I was sentence to my death and ever since.
Locals and tourist have died ever since coming here,
As now I am eternal to kill beyond the grave.
Now you know and you must die.'
As I am thrown up in to the air,
I see my initials starting to be engraved on the wall,
Thud into ceiling. Winded I am trying grasp on air.
The more I am thrown up into the ceiling; I feel my bones cracking,
Pain becoming unbearable as if fires of hell burning through my soul.
As I am up in the air, chair gets turned over now four legs are facing upwards,
As I come back down from crashing into the ceiling,
I collide, while pierced by the legs on the chair through my chest,
As each leg carved they way through my body,
Darkness came ever closer over my world,
As my eyes became heavier as if I was entering slumber state,
This slumber is my finale to the world I once enjoyed.
As being dead wasn't enough for murderous fiend,
As he dragged the chair outside with my body attach.
To be carved up into tiny little pieces, as the axe came hanging over the corpse.
Each blow was met with sinister laughter now I am spread around the land,
As if I was some fertilizer for the crops of this town.
Following year
Local travellers stop at the motel they read the writings on the wall, my name was the last to be read, only for they names to become next to mine
