And still on a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
― Alfred Noyes, The Highwayman
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy’s ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding–
Riding–riding–
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
It’s a stormy night and well past time for anyone to be out when someone knocks on the motel door. The front desk associate had been fast asleep but woke with a start at the sound. When he opened the door, a young handsome man came strolling in and asked for a room. Nothing out of the ordinary, the motel associate thought. But later on that night he started to hear some strange sounds coming from the man’s room. After an hour of the noise, he couldn’t take it any more and marched down to his room. He knocked but got no answer and decided to unlock the door himself. Inside he found a horse, which was strange enough, but what was even stranger was what the man was doing to himself on the bed….
Hello my little friendly geckos, thanks for the read! Just a reminder that you can see get a free copy of my poetry collection, The Moth that Haunts the Laundry Room, on Prolific Works. If you want to support my creative endeavors, you can also purchase the book on Barnes and Noble or Amazon. Don’t forget to check me out on Instagram (thegarrulousgecko) and twitter (@theheckingeck) for herpetofauna photos, poems, and more! If you write something based on one of my prompts and want to share it with me, you can use the Share and Recommend tab at the top of the page, I’ll even post it on the website! Happy writing.
LAMP 