Red River Nightmare
It was a late night in summer,
a young man could find no sleep.
He had just lost the one he loved,
climbing up a mountain steep.
She had grabbed a rock above her.
She had gripped it pretty well.
But her foot slipped on the mountain.
And she tumbled, and she fell.
When he closed his eyes she whispered,
whispered softly in his ear,
“I’m so lonely in this graveyard.
It’s so dark and quiet here.
I can hear the river rolling.
I can hear the old owl screech.
How I wish you were here with me,
like last summer at the beach.”
He sat straight up in the bed there,
threw his blanket on the floor.
“These damn dreams will drive me crazy!
I don’t want them anymore!”
Then he sobbed into his pillow,
slammed his fist into the bed.
“Why the hell am I still living?
Why the hell is she still dead?”
As he settled down a little,
silence came back to the room,
and he fell into a slumber,
and he saw her by a tomb.
“I can hear the river rolling.
I can hear the old owl screech.
How I wish you were here with me,
like last summer at the beach.”
Screaming, he reached toward the bedside,
and he grabbed hold of his phone,
and he put it in his pocket,
and he put his sneakers on.
“I can’t sit here in this bedroom.
Got to get out of this place!
So he stumbled to the bathroom
and splashed water on his face.”
When he looked up at the mirror
it was not his face he saw.
Twas his pretty little Anna,
“Honey, why’d you let me fall?
I can hear the river rolling.
I can hear the old owl screech.
How I wish you were here with me
like last summer at the beach.”
“Damn these ears of mine that hear you!
Damn these eyes that gaze in yours!
Damn your childish love of nature,
How I hate the damned outdoors!”
He picked up his keys in anger,
and he jumped into his car.
Didn’t know where he was going.
Could be near or could be far.
He was listening to baseball.
It was a late west coast game.
Driving without really thinking,
onward into a light rain.
Sleepy, he pulled to the roadside,
and he put the car in park.
He reclined and went to sleep there,
but was woken by a bark.
Radio had gone to static.
There was no dog to be found.
Then a crackle on the airwaves,
and an eery haunting sound:
“I can hear the river rolling.
I can hear the old owl screech.
How I wish you were here with me
like last summer at the beach.”
In a daze he grabbed the gear shift,
and he threw the car in drive.
“I am coming for you, honey!
Could it be that you’re alive?
After all it’s just been 3 days,
and it has happened before.
Like last summer by the ocean,
I want to hold you once more!”
So he parked down by the river.
Frantically, he looked around.
Something’s shining in the moonlight.
It’s a shovel on the ground!
“It’s as if God knew I’d come back
to dig up this still fresh grave.
It was really you I heard, dear!
And soon, dear you will be saved!”
So the man, he set to digging,
digging hard and digging fast.
Through much sweat and labored breathing,
he had reached the lid at last!
It was not without great effort,
and his face was now blood red,
but he got the casket open,
and he saw that she was dead.
He could hear the river rolling,
As the tears poured from his eyes.
And he heard an old owl screeching,
as he clutched his chest and died.
They were clinging to each other.
Finally she was in reach.
Long at last they were together
like last summer at the beach.
4 thoughts on "Red River Nightmare"
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Loved every line and rhyme of this gothic narrative. Had to laugh at his listening to the ballgame.
I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. It was a long one. Thanks again!
You totally missed your calling as a folktale song writer! Good thing it’s not too late until you die! 🙂
You may be right, Susan! Guess I need to learn guitar.