Scary Stories and Poems

Pale Peter of the Night

There is a legend, of a boy
Who roams the streets of a little town.
A town that no one knows about.
And this boy, his name is Peter, Pale Peter.
They say his skin is so pale it’s white
And you can see right through him, literally.
They say he wears the thinnest robes.
They say his face is troubled with visions of the past.
And they say he moans, moans, mournfully
Whilst his sickly yellow eyes search the town.
Pale Peter of the night, of this town.
They say his first victim was a woman.
She was walking the streets past the time when the
Moon had come to overlook everyone.
She had nothing but the shirt on her back.
And those who watched said they saw
A pale white figure coming, quicker than a blink.
And the woman, she didn’t even have enough time to
Scream, because the figure - Pale Peter - engulfed her.
Those who watched said they saw but a white sheet
Cover their view of the woman who was walking.
And the face of the spirit, well, his face, they say
Was twisted, grotesque, deformed.
Like nothing anyone has ever seen before.
They say he looks just like a pale child
Dressed in thin nightclothes, when you first catch sight.
But when he lays eyes on you, his face transforms
And it twists into that silent scream.
They say when the white shape leaves, there lies
On the ground, its victim.
But they say the life is sucked right out of her
And her face as white as chalk.
And the doctors analyzed her, and found that
Her bones had become so brittle.
And there was no blood in her at all.
Those who sit in the corners of old houses
The loners, old men, who avoid other people
Have a theory that Pale Peter sucks the life
Right out of his victims.
They say it is his food.
But since he is a ghost, he can’t be killed.
So he’s always roaming
Always searching
And maybe
Next
He’ll find…


YOU!!!