Haunted

Youth theatre kids rehearsing some play or other

in a warehouse on the tattered outskirts of town.

Noises off in the unlit basement - could be cats

or rats, maybe pigeons? The gruff director leads

 

a giggling gaggle of teenagers into the dark

recesses of the downstairs prop store with torches -

They nearly shit themselves at a jack-in-a-box

that springs open at exactly the wrong moment

 

but that’s all. No rats or cats, and an older kid says

‘Aren’t pigeons more likely to nest up in the eaves?’

‘So what is it? Ghosts?’ Somebody sneers, and that’s when

one of the young ‘uns starts snivelling for his mum.

The gruff director hard stares the crybaby silent

Doesn’t notice a flickering light behind him

as he bolts and padlocks the heavy warehouse doors

and heads back to the theatre for last orders.

Most of the kids follow him into town, some angling

for the chance of an illicit beer, or maybe

chatting with proper actors down in the Green Room

But two lag behind, with ghost hunting on their minds.

There’s a window canalside, resistant to force, but

often Kate and Sam persuaded it to open

So they could smoke, drink and snog uninterrupted

by parents or pigs or probation officers.

They have done their homework: the Reference Library

in the centre of town has a comprehensive

occult section - Sam and Kate have read all the books

Cover to terrifying cover, every one.

Armed with sage, stolen holy water and a Bible,

they bundle through the window into the blackness.

Sam lights the smudging stick with his father’s Zippo

‘They hate this!’ He deadpans, ‘I like to torture them.’

Kate giggles and exclaims: ‘Listen - can you smell something?’

But as they quote their favourite lines from Ghostbusters

the prop store slowly brightens with flickering light.

It’s an unclean light, a corpse light, a devouring light

And all the smudging ceremonies in the wide world

All the supernatural comedy movie quotes

All the holy water, all the passages in the Bible

None can save Kate and Sam from the devouring light

Unless. Unless. Unless the heavy warehouse doors,

unpadlocked, suddenly fling open with a crash

and the gruff director bounds in, Van Helsing-style,

‘Begone!’ He cries. ‘You are not welcome here!’

Projecting like Albert FInney when he STOPPED! THAT! TRAIN!

The devouring light, however, is unimpressed

And is busily transforming Sam’s already

gothically pallid skin to something paler than death

Kate screams: ‘No! You will not take him!’ and grabs the Zippo,

flips the lid and sparks it up, chucks it into the props

- all tinder dry, just waiting for a lick of flame -

She recalled reading about fire’s cleansing power.

The three of them flee like bats escaping from Hades

from a bright, backlit backdrop of burning warehouse

The devouring light devoured by the inferno

The gruff director wondering how to explain

the immolation of theatrical memories

To his boss tomorrow morning in the office,

but right now, he was just glad that his gut feeling

about the whereabouts of Kate and Sam was right.

Sirens blaring, blues flashing, the Simon Snorkel pulls up,

firefighters unravel hoses and extinguish.

Later, an investigator sifts through the ash

Becomes paler than death in the devouring light.