Can You Hear Me? (The Poem)
Can You Hear Me? (The Poem) fireandspunk stories
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janaemitchell
janaemitchellverifiedYA Author & Random Awkward Dancer
Autoplay OFF  •  5 months ago
A poetic version of the ghost story "Can You Hear Me?"

Can You Hear Me? (The Poem)

by janaemitchell

I sat down at my dressing table, like I did every night at this time, letting my long hair down. Every pin I removed was a welcomed release, the tension of the day being set free as I removed my crown.

As I picked up my brush, I heard a voice; distant, yet so near. Unable to understand what was said, I quieted, still with fear.

Three knocks startled me, causing me to drop my brush. "Who's there?" I asked, a chill overcoming me in a rush.

As I looked around my room, I noticed my door was slightly ajar. Despite my lonely state, the voice grew louder, more distinguishable; near, yet still so far.

"Hello?" the man called softly from inside my room, causing an urgency to flee. As softly as he had spoken, it was just as frightening as if it had been spoken aloud right beside me.

"I'm here," I whispered, my words causing me to stand up, backing towards the wall behind me ever so slow. I was so extremely frightened, but what I was trying to get away from, I didn't know.

As I stood in the corner of my room, I screamed, but no one came near. I was completely alone, yet not, as the voices continued getting more and more clear.

"We heard you... give us a sign you're here," the deep voice came again. A voice that wrapped around me, lingering in the air, even though I saw no men.

As he spoke, my room began to fall away, the pristine grandeur turning dark, my things gone. I was left standing inside a shell of what once was, praying for the light of dawn.

"Get out!" I screamed, but they didn't listen, my pleas for help they continued to ignore. "Help me," I begged with no relief as I slid down the wall, landing softly on the floor.

"I heard a female voice say 'help me'," the men said, their voices sounding slurred. Fear pulled me up off the floor as he spoke, knowing I'd been heard.

Spirits were of the devil, never to be summoned or spoken to; that's what I was taught. I wanted to run, flee this room and the voices within, but I was too distraught.

"I bet it's Lady Emily," he said, and I knew I'd forever be cursed, since he spoke my name. But as soon as I saw my reflection in the mirror, I knew I already was, but he wasn't the one to blame.

"She died almost a hundred and fifty years ago," he said, and right then I immediately knew. They weren't the spirits, I was, and what he said was true.

My ear-splitting scream caused the men to yell, grab their things, and flee. Once they were gone, I walked toward my reflection, unable to believe the reality that laid before me.

I couldn't be dead because I was Lady Emily, so I refused to believe what they say. As I reached out toward the mirror, I slowly began to fade away.

"How strange," I said aloud as I stepped away from my mirror. Deciding to turn in for the night, my surroundings suddenly became much clearer.

I sat down at my dressing table, like I did every night at this time, letting my long hair down. Every pin I removed was a welcomed release, the tension of the day being set free as I removed my crown.

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