'tis the season for spooky ghost stories!
It was time for her walk down the runway. Seems she had misplaced a few
essentials along the way; THE CLOTHES!! And now what? Designers from round the
world {and the great beyond) had gathered for this Season’s launch. His
reputation depended on her ability to sell haute couture. And sell it good!
Shivers ran up and down her spine.
What kind of ghastly garb had Monsieur Fossoyeur created this time? Last
Season’s “Beyond the Spectral” a dismal failure. The year before that ~~
“Otherworldly on Display” a definite no-go! Lights dimmed, music began; from
seemingly out of nowhere, her dresser appeared. This time there would be no
flops, no damning reviews.
Ahead on the runway a coffin, a shovel, bandages. A shroud. Monsieur’s
swan song. No more anyone or anything. Complété. Finie.
winter's landscaping
draped in yards of
taffeta
ready for the ball
Oh my, unsettling Helen. Haunt Couture… 🙂 …great haiku my friend.
ReplyDeleteVery nicely done. Love the Haiku... lawns dressed in taffeta!
ReplyDeleteSo chilling and the image fits so well. When I saw who the designer was it was even scarier!
ReplyDeleteThis is very cleverly done. Doesnt get much more chilling than a coffin, lol. LOVE the haiku. Thanks for visiting my Pup poem.....how I mis my wild boy. Did I tell you there is a wild wolf dog in the building who loves me? I get to pat him every day. This helps.
ReplyDeleteLove to see the many forms of your writings, Helen. You have that finesse!
ReplyDeleteI'm wondering if you have been affected by the terrible weather. Seems we all got hit but not as bad as the upper West coast.
Sending love from Chicago,
Jane
Lovely haiku. I just realize I forgot to use a seasonal word....oops
ReplyDeleteHis swan song indeed. And no comeback from the grave, even for a gravedigger, which is one way to escape the "damning reviews"! Clever haibun, Helen, enjoyed it!
ReplyDeleteDearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteWOW, without the CLOTHES on the runway in that setting was indeed getting everyone ready for the ball and the grand finale...
Hugs,
Mariette
Captivating to the last word, Helen! A wonderful frightfest in so few lines!
ReplyDeleteI loved it, and that last walk down the runway make me think of it almost like a metaphor for life.
ReplyDeleteWere her clothes made of tafetta? Yards and yards of it? Might it have flown... no, right? She might want to arrive at 'the ball' early to retrieve them form the yard. Just saying.
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely. And that photo, spooky indeed. Thanks for sharing. Be well, Helen.
She could always dance on his grave. ;)
ReplyDeletePerfect haiku, Helen!
ReplyDeleteThe final show/showing. Kinda sounds like you end as you begin, wearing nothing at all.
ReplyDelete