When I was young and full of life,
my sister, small and meek.
We’d play together every night,
a game of hide and seek.
Right up until one afternoon,
when something odd occurred.
A story told in urban myth,
perhaps you may have heard.
The game began, as often did,
her turn to hide was first.
I took my time to look for her,
our ritual, rehearsed.
I searched for her in every place,
behind each nook and door.
It’s then I saw bright eyes between
the gap beneath the floor.
“How did you get in there?” I laughed,
“When did you get so thin?”
But then I heard her joyful voice,
“Your time is up, I win!”
Startled by her suddenly,
I turned around to see.
She jumped from out her hiding place,
and ran to hug with me.
I looked back to the gap below,
The eyes I saw weren’t there.
Were they a figment of my mind?
I swear I saw them stare.
I must have looked bewildered for
she asked “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all” my swift reply,
“It’s just the night is long.”
My sister started counting down,
now was my turn to hide.
I sought the wardrobe in my room,
and scrambled up inside.
I waited for a minute, two,
my sister came to seek.
She pulled the wardrobe door ajar,
which gave a rusty creak.
And through the gap, I saw again,
those bright and piercing eyes.
They were not hers, I knew for sure,
and felt my terror rise.
‘Twas clear as day that this was not
a phantom that I dreamed.
And when I heard a whispered voice,
with horror, that I screamed.
Most people want to know one thing,
“What did it say to you?”
I tell them what I think I heard,
it asked “Can I play too?”