It is late. The house is quiet. As I look out the window, a streetlights illuminate the street, and leaves stir in the breeze. Beside my computer lies a magazine about the scariest movies ever made. All of these combine to bring to my mind a verse of dread and despair. It is a poem that I once knew by heart, but one that I have not thought about in many years. It was known by millions, but those who made it popular are now gone.
The Merchant of Menace
The King of Pop
The words are as follows.
Darkness falls across the land.
The midnight hour is close at hand.
Creatures crawl in search of blood
To terrorize your neighborhood.
And whosoever shall be found
Without the soul for getting down
Must stand and face the hounds of hell
And rot inside a corpse’s shell.
The foulest stench is in the air,
The funk of forty thousand years.
And grisly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom.
And though you fight to stay alive
Your body starts to shiver.
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the thriller.
Yep, that is what I am thinking about as the midnight hour nears.
SBI: A Thinning Crowd 
And the name of the poem is … ? I love it. Who wrote it?
When Michael Jackson recorded Thriller, Vincent Price recited this at the end of the song. I also like the poem at the end of Nights in White Satin by The Moody Blues.
The voice of Vincent Price, he had a great voice.
An awesome voice. Very sinister.