The beast he calls to me. Gnawing about far below.
It spells voracious hunger. Of defense I little know.
Scraping out of need; I struggle to resist.
“I am too young you fiend,”
“…but this you shouldn’t miss.”
Vile whisper through the crack manipulates my head,
“I’d like to taste the young…. sweet, succulently fed.
Your peaches and cream skin. A place lips and teeth can run”
A growl from his throat slips.
I scowl, “This for you so characteristically fun.”
“What give you to me in exchange?”
I reply a restraining of my voice.
A strength I do not know.
I’ve changed with little choice.
“I can the rest set free. Upon my word, I’ll leave.
When I am happy, well, and sated. I promise I will flee.”
My family at liberty from this nightly terror. What I could not think.
What happens had I made an error?
For who would trust a beast who feasts on others’ fears?
But bravely I trod on, thinking not of memories dear.
“You will wait then beast. While I do prepare. For my final hour, I’ll dress in finest fare.
The gown in which I’m dressed. Of beauty I’ll be proud. When you take my life, wrap me in crimson’s shroud.”
Joan of Arc awakened as a dream. She a flaming star.
To death’s halls marching as one it seemed. Taking from life’s chalice, one courage filled draught.
So easily it slips. A golden fragrant drop which hangs upon my lips.
He snarled. I grabbed his snout,
“This will be civilized.”
Pleasure struck a laugh that I could only but despise.
“for me this sense it is quite new.” He said between his teeth.
The smile that it drew he’d wish that he could keep.
I licked gold from her lips. She bit into my neck.
I tore her fragrant arm. Never renting crimson, lest I forget.
She ripped open my belly, spat out balls of flesh and fur.
I realized before her gold and velvet, I was a miserable cur.
“I will this not to end,” of course he’d want his way.
“Were we to continue a price you’d have to pay.”
He snarled of foulish pleasure.
“and your promise beast will it ensue?”
“I’ve never kept a promise. I assure you that is true.”
“Then I will finish what you started. Your promise will be won.
Here’s a revelation I’m no longer a mere woman.”
Fire leaped into her eyes, swords unveiled and forged of steel.
I’d failed to see her disguise. She brandished some foul light.
I should have known somehow, as she carved me with delight.
The floorboards gave a howl. They folded pulled me down.
Into my lake as ghoul, I’d forever, never drown.
What happened on that night. I never will forget.
A turning tide when crimson replaced the soul I’d let.
~ Leslie Moon
© Copyright 2013 Leslie Moon. All Rights Reserved.
Heed the Tale Weaver: The one-year anniversary of the Damned draws to a close…but the celebration of the Damned shall never end. The winner of our comment contest shall be named May 21; your package of ghoulish goodies awaits. In the meantime, revel weekly in our angst and taint. We thank you, Damned Nation, for together we shall redefine horror. Now, go Damn yourself…
Pen of the Damned 