"Death upon your house and that shack over there!" The old man dressed in the potato sack yelled. The house he curses is no Capulet nor Montague. It is a house that was cursed. A witch once lived there and the children tired to ring her door bell frantically, but would always freak out before they get to the door.
It is known that some children have been turned into birds, frogs and ghosts; each generation of children wants to outdo the last generation when it comes to fairy tales. However, one child was brave enough and rang the door bell. Before he could run, they were possessed by a gleaming light from the peep hole. It was so bright that it left the child motionless. Supposedly, it blinded the child and the doctors could not explain the phenom. That blinded child grew up and wear a potato sack.
The shack that was being cursed was the home of a groundskeeper. He tends to the witch's garden and shrubs. He never enjoyed weed eating the sides of the house, so he let those grow like vines. It is known that the man is the only person who has ever communicated with the witch. He was never turned into some weird creature, been eaten by a dog or bat, or even blinded like the man cursing in the potato sack.
What the children don't know is that there is no witch. No one has lived in that house for years. The groundskeeper who tends to the house is the son of the homeowner. The homeowner never came back for him since he was twelve. He has waited nearly forty years for a descendent to visit him, some long lived relative or once removed cousin. All he does it the yard work.
The blind potato sack man was blinded alright, but a witch had nothing to do with it. Retinitis Pigmentosa actually caused the man to lose his sight. The doctors were not trained on this specific catastrophe. The groundskeeper in the shack knew though since the old homeowner had the exact same problem.
I was up late the other night and started to write a prose poem. At first, it was going to revolve around a witch and how children were always scared of her. However, I've seen enough of this. Instead, I made it about the groundskeeper, the potato sack, and blindness. I think the random ending makes this prose poem work.
I hope you enjoy!