Dark Sentiments 2012 – Day 27: Jasper and the Little Girl
Posted By Randy on October 27, 2012
This poem is based on actual events that were earlier related in my piece titled Musings as Hallowe’en Approaches – Part the Second, published here on 7 September 2008. On 20 September 2011, I also announced its inclusion in John Robert Colombo’s latest collection, Jeepers Creepers – Canadian Accounts of Weird Events and Experiences. I offer it in memory of good old Jasper who, I’m happy to report, lived healthily until the day he died, 3 months past his 18th birthday.
Jasper and the Little Girl
By LFM
I found myself a house in town,
And with some help from Dad,
I moved in with my trusty Dog
And everything we had.
The stairway to the second floor
Would not admit my bed,
So, needful of a place to sleep
The mattress went instead.
The last day of the moving in
Was tiresome indeed,
The siren call of dreamland
Was an easy one to heed.
Even so, ’twas well past two
Before I went to bed,
Followed by my Beagle
With his sleepy drooping head.
Upon the mattress, both of us
Consigned ourselves to rest,
Unknowing we were not alone
Within our rustic nest.
Exhaustion brings the kind of sleep
Not easily deferred,
And Jasper had the softest growl –
It hardly could be heard.
I’ll never know how long it took,
But ’twas a while before
I raised my head to see my Dog
Was staring at the door.
Still half entwined in sleep’s embrace
I followed Jasper’s gaze.
‘Twas then I spied the little girl
As through a dreaming haze.
She wore a checkered jumper
Falling well below her knee.
I saw her hair was long and dark,
And then she smiled at me.
As though a breeze had blown away
The mists from out my head,
The world zipped into focus
And I launched myself from bed.
A cry of, “HEY!” burst from my lips,
The girl ran out of sight.
I found her by the room across,
Still smiling in delight.
Thought I, what kind of parent
Would permit this girl to roam,
And play where dangers might befall
Instead of safely home?
My quarry darted in the room
As quick as any mouse.
The door slammed shut with such a crash
It shook the very house.
In hot pursuit I turned the knob
That barred the way inside.
I knew I had her trapped at last,
She’d nowhere else to hide.
The door was halfway open when
It seemed to hit a wall,
Then slammed again with such a force
It threw me ‘cross the hall!
I found myself laid on the floor,
A bruise upon my head.
How wroth I was I can’t describe,
So no more need be said.
I sprang up to the door again
And kicked my way inside.
Nothing stood against me and
The door flew open wide.
And what I found inside that room
Disturbs me to this day.
Or rather, what I didn’t find’s
A better thing to say.
The little room was empty
With not a thing inside.
Nor were there means to make escape,
And not a place to hide.
I never saw the girl again,
And though I asked around,
Enlightenment eluded me –
Blank stares were all I found.
In time I used that room for guests
When ever they would stay,
And only told them of the girl
At breakfast the next day.
Fifteen years of living there,
And ’til the day he died,
Jasper feared that little room,
And wouldn’t go inside.
Hi Randy,
I had forgotten about this one. It’s one of my favourites – really well done!
Best regards,
Laurie
Thank you Laurie. I wrote the story about this long ago, and the poem’s been marinating in the back of my mind – the pantry I think – for at least two years. I’m glad you enjoyed it.