After 12 a.m.

After 12 a.m.
By Aliyah Page

It’s past midnight, the building was empty,
like a ghost town but in a building.
The pizzeria was engulfed in nothing but darkness.
The only light is the light illuminating my tiny office,
and the rectangular tablet that sits in my hands.

The restaurant was silent,
like an abandoned building.
I feel myself shaking like a leaf in the old office chair.
I know I won’t make it out alive tonight.
My week has been going rough, nearly a hair away, from death.

Why did I take this cursed job?
A job in a kid’s pizzeria.

The power went out in a blink of an eye.
I hear it.
I hear that cursed music playing.
I know it’s my end.

The music ended,
the darkness engulfing me quickly.
The last thing I heard was a loud screech and a deep, glitchy voice saying,
“IT’S ME!”

This poem makes me...
  • Think (37%)
  • Smile (0%)
  • Somber (37%)
  • Surprised (11%)
  • Feel a Connection (11%)
  • Inspired (5%)