Secrets Beneath the Cellar Hatch

They pull the cellar’s hatch, a desperate escape,
Against tornadic winds and driving rain,
A funnel cloud extends from the sky,
Thunder drowns ghostly cries below. 

The wind moans through the ghostly silhouette,
Shadows stir and voices weep in regret,
A pleading cry that chills the blood.

What fate lies ahead? Can she survive?
Caught in the rage—a chorus of voices plead. 

The latch won’t close—something pulls from below,
A child’s voice begs, “Please don’t go…”
She grips his hand, unsure what to do,
Stay with the living—or join what’s through?

In the corner, a doll with a cracked, cold grin,
Its eyes seem to follow, worn thread-bare skin.
No dust on her dress, no sign of decay,
As if she’d been waiting… every single day. 

The storm's fury begins to wane,

Winds now calm, the storm drifts on,
The cellar’s hatch—
No voices cry, shadows gone… 

They climb out slow, the silence thick,
Mud on their boots, the air too still, it shifts too quick.
But as they run, behind them low—
A whisper rides the wind: “Don’t leave me… alone…”