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The Widow's Revenge

When Darkness Wears a Face, Terror Finds Its Voice

By Jason “Jay” BenskinPublished about a year ago 2 min read

She crawls from the crypt where darkness festers,

Where the earth splits open and death molests her.

Once a woman, now a husk,

Reeking of rot and midnight's musk.

--

The veil of night shrouds her face,

A corpse's smile in a twisted embrace.

Her skin hangs loose, stitched with decay,

And blackened blood drips down like clay.

--

She walks where the living dare not tread,

Her laughter choking the silent dead.

When you feel her breath on your neck’s cold skin,

It’s already too late—the horror begins.

--

She knows your sins, she knows your fears,

She whispers them all through bleeding ears.

The sound crawls inside, scratches the mind,

Until sanity frays and leaves you blind.

--

In the dark she waits, her grin too wide,

Teeth like needles, and eyes open wide.

Her fingers are spindles that pierce and tear,

Threading your screams into night’s despair.

--

When you see her, you’ll freeze in place,

Her skeletal hands pull at your face.

She digs through flesh with a shriek and a tear,

And buries her laughter in the marrow there.

--

Her mouth splits open, a gaping maw,

A chasm of darkness where nothing thaws.

You’ll feel her tongue slither down your throat,

As she drinks your soul, leaving not a mote.

--

The smell of damp earth fills the air,

While maggots crawl from your tangled hair.

She devours your cries, chews up your dread,

Feeding the hunger that woke the dead.

--

And when you’re nothing, not flesh nor bone,

She’ll stitch your skin to make you her own.

A puppet of horror sewn to her side,

Another victim lost in the Widow's tide.

--

She wears your face, she steals your voice,

Infecting the living without a choice.

She’ll find your friends, she’ll find your kin,

Wearing that rotting, familiar grin.

--

No grave can hold her, no priest can pray,

The Widow’s curse won’t fade away.

Once she has tasted your flesh and breath,

You belong to her, in life and death.

--

And as you’re swallowed by terror’s din,

Remember: it all starts with the Widow’s grin.

Pantoum

About the Creator

Jason “Jay” Benskin

Crafting authored passion in fiction, horror fiction, and poems.

Creationati

L.C.Gina Mike Heather Caroline Dharrsheena Cathy Daphsam Misty JBaz D. A. Ratliff Sam Harty Gerard Mark Melissa M Combs Colleen

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  3. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  1. Expert insights and opinions

    Arguments were carefully researched and presented

  2. Eye opening

    Niche topic & fresh perspectives

  3. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  4. Masterful proofreading

    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

  5. On-point and relevant

    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (5)

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  • Caitlin Charltonabout a year ago

    We never start out in darkness, sometimes life swings us left and we continue that path because it promises control. You depicted this very well, your storeroom of words so striking, terrifying and brutal will never run out. You keep your stories so consistent, such amazing attention to detail. A huuuuge fan of yours I will forever be, because I can see how much work you put in and how you value quality and how you project each thought and feeling.

  • Mack D. Amesabout a year ago

    Horrifying. Intense. Superb.

  • Silver Dauxabout a year ago

    What an intense poem! I absolutely loved this. Fantastic horror poem!

  • Mark Grahamabout a year ago

    Creepy, kind of gross in a few lines, but what a great horror poem.

  • Antoni De'Leonabout a year ago

    OH Goodness me. Night, never let me ever meet this wretched widow. I can actually feel her crawling under my skin. SOOOOOOO! Good! Fabulous work. Oh for time to read everything greatly written. I shudder.

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