by Brett Rutherford
Come right on in.
Set back from the road the way it is,
no one will bother you.
School bus picks up right there.
Most folks from hereabouts
keep to themselves. They'll be
no bother to you at all.
Haunted? No. Old Doctor Jones --
or so he called his-self -- he was
the last tenant, but now he's gone
for life to the worst kind of place.
But never you mind about that.
Let's do the tour.
Good porch, good bricks, good stairs,
as you can see, original
from back in the Eighteen-Nineties.
Parlor so wide
you could swing a cat,
sliding glass doors -- not sure
if they still work. Marble!
that's marble on the mantel, yes!
There's just one room
you'll want to stay out of.
The one in back, windows
all boarded up.
There's a funny chair in there,
and all those medicine bottles.
That's where he did the stuff
that got him in trouble.
You'll need your water
for drinking carried in,
just so you know everything.
Some springs near here
are free to fill up from.
You can bathe and wash
with what is here, I guess,
but I wouldn't drink.
The well is tainted.
One time I looked down
with a light and I saw
a lot of rubbish there
and something that seemed,
if you squinted,
like little arms and legs.
You'll be left alone, for sure.
Except some nights
a woman or girl will knock
and will keep on knocking
until she gives up and goes away.
You won't want to answer.
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