My mouth is dry
As I descend the basement steps
I hear the low snarl of an animal
Trapped, hiding in the dark
I feel the blast of stale warm air
Corrosive at the back of my throat
I had no intention of following the lure.
Dangling in from of my nose
I heard the stories.
Aware of the ruse, the danger
Like a crazy fool, I stood on the basement floor.
My eyes adjusting to the dark
Finding the light switch, it’s easy to see
There’s no treasure buried here.
No trapped animal, just me and my imagination
With a tape recorder in the far corner
The last sound, the door closing behind me.
The bolt closed, sounding like a bullet.
Followed by soft laughter.
The light bulb crackled, leaving me in darkness.
My fist pounding on the door.
My voice echoed from the walls.
Will someone come, let this fool out!
© Anita Dawes 2021