The Return of Fumph

On a cold October night
In the darkness, out of sight
There is a shadow in the dark
Where even the dogs won’t bark

This thing moves in silence
Clambering over your fence
Moving into your home
Up in your loft it waits alone

It sits all quiet for you
Waiting for a moment to choose
Then it’ll start with the noise
Bangin’, scrapin’, movin’ toys

Victorian dolls move on their own
Noise they make like a gurgled groan
As they move to your door
You wonder why he’s back for?

His shapeless form becomes anything
This you fear, your heart sinks
For he is back badder than ever
The return of Fumph has souls to sever

Watch out, look up the stairs
Something big and scary up there
Look behind your doors, under your beds
Fumph is back from the dead!

* Those new to Fumph, I’ve a few poems on here about him. He was a childhood scare story my Nan and her sister used to tell me and my family to make sure we behaved. Think it was a Welsh thing? Scared the daylights out of me! I thought I’d bring him back for Hallowe’en…

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