The Horrorcane

The horrorcane has cows with long horns in it

And

Vampires with their eyes drawing you into them. Step close mesmerized,

Swept up and dashed to the rocks

So the monsters can lap up your blood.

The horrorcane has motorhomes too

And

They are full of clowns, some are Pennywise

Smiling with balloons, grins and teeth but more are little,

Dolls, kinda Chuckie-like in demeanor, butcher knives in cute little hands.

The horrorcane is around the corner

And

The carpet has checkers, some maroon to match the dried blood

Where your name is written with the raven’s quill

Squeaky wheels heard above the din of angry voices laughing.

The horrorcane has tall ships swirling

And

A pirate with a guillotine has no control where the blade slips

The cost can be a finger or two, maybe a head

The sails wildly conceal green things unknown but stingy

The horrorcane twists in fury

And

Un-deliberately comes just for you

No waiting, the only question is what will fall on you

A whale? A bus? A dead superhero? A clue?