By Jude Lee ’26

Every year the chilly whisper of autumn blows through town,

Turning the sky a morose gray,

And the leaves the shades of blood, pumpkin, and brown-

The whisper grows louder by day,

Awakening the forgotten spirits of history,

And bringing out the monsters to play-

But the scariest creature is neither bloodsucking nor gory,

In fact it hides best when in sight,

And it only knows all the secrets behind the story

It’s me.

I know all the secrets to your story.

I see all, I know that:

Every dozen moons you turn the lights down

And disguise your town

Hide behind your mask

Fill up and down another flask

Prance with the ghouls

That usually keep house in your souls

Remember your new neighbors in Salem?

As a warm welcome you would hang em’

Hushed hiders inhabit his hidden home

Twenty-five months was too short for Anne’s book to become a tome

And twin brothers who stood tall and proud

Knocked off their feet onto the ground

You would rather tear a nation apart than

Let your brother be free again

Create a means to hurt,

Become a destroyer of an earth

Detest your opposition

Make neighbors your competition

Relish in violence

Leave the weak in silence

Glorify a sin

Display your inner djinn

Rather live a life to cheat and lie

Than one you can justify

Mr King of horror, why would anyone read instead

About bloodied sewers from children without a head

Over an act of intimacy?

Why must it be such a controversy?

You scare yourself.

So you create your own greater horrors to justify yourself.

You say “nevermore,

Their tales they told they’re tabescent!”

But your sins are evermore

In the end these emissions

Of things that lurk in the dim corridors

Are all fragments of your imaginations

All these horrors

May scare him and her and he and she

But nothing is scarier than what you see in your mirrors.