The Hollow Woods

In the Hollow Woods

an old cabin slumbers

deep within its chilling embrace.

There, once a year,

a flame sparks to life

preparing to kill and erase.

*

A red stump of wax

on the window sill sits

with a flame that flickers quite madly.

Only to be swallowed by

the darkness of night.

This tale can only end badly.

*

Faded and frayed,

a yellow strand lays loosely

'round rotting, broken-down rails;

A warning to the foolish–

take heed, turn back!

You're in danger of tipping the scales!

*

As the midnight hour

draws close at hand,

the spark begins to spit and crackle.

Straining, burning,

grasping at strength;

The evil lets loose a mad cackle.

*

More, more, MORE it cries as

a brilliant blaze lights the sky,

illuminating the darkened glade.

By now you should be

quaking and shivering,

completely and deathly afraid.

*

One end of tattered tape

rips free from its hold

pushed about by an unholy breeze,

slowly unraveling,

on the ground below

in the shadow of the Hollow Woods' trees.

*

A silence descends,

oppressive and heavy,

while the new moon offers no light.

Each minute that passes,

a slow, drawn-out suffocation

of all sound and natural sight.

*

The tension breaks with a resounding

Crack!

Furries and feathers,

startle back to life.

The spell releases;

they quickly scatter

trying in vain to flee the knife.

*

But the snare snaps taught

smothering screams,

the captor eager to feed.

As the cries die off,

the ground consumes the remains–

a heap of bits and bones, now freed.

*

The candle dims,

the winds die down,

the hunger's been appeased.

But it won't be long

before the evil stirs,

it needs more souls to seize.

*

Minutes bleed into hours

as a timid peace descends.

Then a whisper of laughter

floats by on a breeze,

and the evil within

sighs again.

*

The candle wick flares brightly,

calling a vicious wind

to howl and thrash.

It's a beacon to

the lost and lonely,

a lure to the young and brash.

*

A wicked, fearsome rhythm

creeps along

darkened tops of trees.

Tendrils snaking to and fro,

a silent hunter weaving

through limbs and rotted leaves.

*

The moon holds its breath,

no living thing stirs,

a pregnant pause in time.

As the evil breathes in

the scent of those wandering fools–

how utterly sublime.

Ahhhhh.

*

Happy Halloween!