The village
While traveling northwards
on a back country lane.
It was very strange.
I saw a village appear from nowhere.
All I could do is stop and stare
I climbed a hill overlooking it all.
There was several horse stalls.
Old grey slated roofs
on dilapidated buildings was the proof.
Nothing was moving as the day went by.
It’s like it was dead or all were shy.
Maybe a plague killed all in sight.
I’ll wait till night to look for a light.
No light came on as time went by.
It’s like a ghost town.
I said to myself with a frown.
I felt the ‘wrong’ lurking there.
It made me shiver, I’ll swear.
Should I set foot within this place?
One wrong turn is all it takes.
End up where you can never come back.
I don’t want to live in a shack.
It’s funny, nothing was heard.
Nothing stirred, not even a bird.
There was no smoke from chimney’s high.
No kids playing, ready to say hi.
The village is a place I shouldn’t be.
I left before entering. I needed to flee.
I asked others when I got to a town.
They all smiled and looked around.
“You’re not the first to mention the village.”
“Some went there just to pillage.”
“They were never seen again.”
“Consider yourself lucky, my friend.”
“You see, the village comes and goes”
“It doesn’t exist, or so we’ve been told”
“An urban legend, if you like.”
“All who enter there go out of sight”
“Never to be seen again.”
“This has happened time and again.”
“No one knows who built the town.”
Don’t know why it still comes around.”
“There are rumors that never end.”
‘You’re one of the lucky ones my friend.”
I moved on still not sure what to think.
It will be awhile before I can sleep a wink.—-R. W. Johnson—(2014)