The Phantom’s Reckoning

Once upon a bleak formation, in the moon’s cold lamentation,
Came the sound of boots in cadence, marching ghosts upon the floor.
Through the mist of dusk’s concealing, rose a whisper, hoarse, appealing,
Like a dying breath revealing secrets lost in days of war.
Silence shattered; faint but certain, like a knuckle at the door.
Only that...and nothing more.

I stood frozen, rigid, staring, at the shadowed barracks glaring,
While the air grew thick with whispers that no lips had formed before.
Then a gust like distant warning set the locker doors to yawning,
And a figure, tattered, scorning, stepped across the hollow floor.
Torn in uniform he lingered, pale with wounds from days of before.
Dead… yet walking...nothing more.

I recalled his name, David; unbidden; how his fate had once been written,
Then the fire from our rifles turned his heartbeat into lore.
'Twas no battle, no invasion; just a careless miscalculation,
Friendly fire, foul persuasion, that had struck him to the core.
Now his eyes, like embers burning, bore through mine as if they swore,
Justice now...forevermore.

"By the oath you swore, you failed me," came his voice like thunder, pale, he
Took a step; my throat was weighted, every breath a choked rapport.
"Was I naught but mere distraction? Just another brief infraction?
Left to rot with no retraction, in a grave no honor bore?
Now my vengeance shall awaken; fear my march forevermore!"
Then the lights...were seen no more.

From the barracks, distant screaming rifles fired at ghosts, unseeing,
As the soldiers ran in terror from the thing they killed before.
'Til at last, with dawn light breaking, not a soul was left from waking,
Every man that bore his marking lay as breathless as the floor.
And the specter, faintly grinning, faded through the oaken door.
Gone...but haunting...evermore.