| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 10/17/2001 11:42:04 PM 10/15/2006 11:04:59 AM | 539 |
Mist In The Devil's Den:
So they talked you into it,
These silly friends of ours,
We're going on a haunted hayride,
Out on old Cobblestone Road,
Past the abandoned estate,
With it's blasted trees and long grass behind stark stone walls,
At the witching hour on All Hallows Eve,
Past the ancient barrows up in the misty moors,
You've dragged me along under the edge of the Harvest Moon,
The amber orb is rolling along the horizon,
And was that a howling wolf I just heard?
Now these chicken livered scoundrels have taken off,
And left us two my Sweet,
And you with a twisted ankle hobbling,
In this foggy darkness we must stride,
And every way we turn in the lost woods,
Leads only to the next ominous leafless tree,
We're so lost we're chasing brambles on game trails dear,
Under the gaze of hooting owls,
I can barely see your shawl over your shoulder,
Much less the eyes in your head for the thickening fog,
This all pervading dark grey mist is chilling me to the bone,
And what is love for anyway,
To drag me on such a night from my warm lamp lit home?
What is that rustling in the leaves,
I hear upon the forest trails?
We've come upon a stone wall of some twenty feet,
It's obvious age marked with chips and cracks,
In places of disrepair,
And I see the edges of a manse's gates,
With the dead McAvigeiy coat of arms upon it's fallen timbers,
And the old estate on Cobblestone Road,
Our traveler's respite this Hallowe'en,
Find you in the haze of fog a broken window free of bars,
For the great iron doors never were breached,
It's rumored the entire clan died starving under siege,
Their poor remains might greet us now,
These two hundred years after meeting their Saints.
Pardon my Sweet,
For these cobwebs and this dust,
And the ramshackle of this place,
This night has brought unto us,
'Tis dark and the wall sconces hold few candles,
In this wicked forsaken place,
Where there were evils unspeakable,
Before the kinsmen had conquered,
The clan of this keep were rumored to be shape shifters,
With a strong appetite for human flesh,
I'd as soon build a fire in the great hearth there,
And sleep in your arms at it's flagstone foot,
Where our bones might finally find dry and light and warm.
What's that you say my love,
There's a skittering in the pitch black halls?
'Tis only mice and spiders,
Or small creatures living in this ancient hall,
And now that I've kindled flames in the great hearth,
It seems a strange thing of wonder,
For I've never seen quite this color of flame,
This wood has stood awaiting sparks,
For some two hundred years,
It seems some purple cast to the air,
Fighting against such a strange shade of green fire,
And these dancing sparkles of pale silver light,
Are just the tired creeping from my bones,
I wonder why this dizzy feel has come upon me here in the dark?
Let us lay our weary heads upon the flagstone's now soft warm,
Yes rest your head upon my cradling arms,
I'm sorry for the black earth beneath my nails,
I can't quite remember it's origin's details,
And the red glow you say you see within my eyes,
Must be some trick of this strange wood we fired,
Lay aside your cross of gold my love,
Let me kiss your sweet nape and cheek to sleep,
Now that we're settled all alone,
That moaning it's just the foggy wind,
Upon the ancient walls of stout stone,
And yes , my eyes are an unusual shade,
Of green and black this All Hallows night,
What's that my love,
You say your head is growing light?
I can't quite fathom dear,
This deep hunger your beauty inspires,
Or what it is that makes you fade so pale,
The mist is invading this broken old house in the moors,
And I'm feeling very strange,
As my damned soul melds with yours,
My teeth it seems won't let go,
Of your beloved pulsating flesh,
And the coo of your soft moans,
Echo yet in the mist in this Devil's den,
My love you're still right now,
But in a fortnight you'll be hale and walk the Earth,
Forever your pale beauty,
In Moonlight will show it's wondrous worth,
And as we wraiths McAvigeiy are now black bride and groom,
We'll now share our tearful feasts forever,
Under the edge of the pale full Moon.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/18/2001
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
Happy Halloween, all!
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