Creak

A house stands upon a shady hill

Stepping in gives my bones a chill

The lights fail to go on with the switch

At the kitchen stands an old with

Stirring something in a pot of brew

A black cat doesn't purr, whispers "boo"

"Come sit," she says, pulling out a chair

Her cackle gives rise to my every arm hair

She pours some broth in the bowl for me

Three eyeballs float to the top, can't see

Dashing fast, I race to the creaky door

"Wait," she cackles, "don't you want more?"