The Traveler, Part One

In honor of Halloween. (And yes, I still do write posts on here.)

Slowly, the moon rose into the night,
The woodland creatures shrunk away,
Recoiling, the darkness was slashed by gray light,
Silence fell over the meadow with the dew,
All animals caught in the talons of fright,
The nightmare had begun anew.

Before the full moon, the townsfolk shuddered,
Axes were hastily sharpened, rifles loaded,
Doors were firmly locked, windows shuttered,
Lanterns were smothered, the stillness forboding,
Prayers for mercy quickly muttered.

Far off, amongst a thicket of pines,
Deep in the rolling, creeping hills,
A gaping maw opened, a long abandoned mine,
In the air, full of fear and chills,
Gray beams plunged down into the dark recesses,
A howl ripped through the night, the call of the kill.

All heard the ghostly dirge,
Knowing the end was nigh,
The beast had come to purge,
There was nowhere to hide,
From the eternal curse.

Rising, the corpse crawled from the muck,
Flesh and bone growing strong,
Fate had never shown the abomination luck,
For it was dead no longer,
Dull eyes glistened, gray arms shook,
For it began to hunger.

It eyes saw far into the gloom, seeking victims,
Snout rooting them out as the fear scent thickened,
Charging forth, the beast lumbered through the trees,
Vast shoulders, teeth, and claws killing all it sees,
Deer, rabbits, birds, even sheep it ate,
All living creatures were its bait.

Aye, but for one it had gained a taste,
A hunger no woodlander could slate,
The human’s flesh, warm in its teeth,
Of this it had raving need,
Nearing the village, its jaws salivated.

A volley of shot greeted the gruesome visitor,
But black powder and Winchesters only made it kill quicker,
Rushing forth, the bravest attacked with shovels and axes,
Claws swinging, Death feasted, bodies flying as his scythe slashed,
The roar of Satan’s minion tore through the glen,
Every mortal knew, the bell tolled for them.

Leagues away, upon a trodden woodland road,
A traveler rode, his horse whimpering at the call of wrath,
Picking up the reigns, the man galloped down the path,
Along the river stood a church, decrepit and old,
Yes, this would do, as lure and stronghold.

Windows, doors, walls and all,
Meant nothing as the beast stood tall,
Blood covered its muzzle, bodies littered at its feet,
But years had made it insatiable, the hunt was not complete.

As the iron bell tolled, red eyes turned around,
Massive paws pummeled the ground, leaving the ruined town,
Tree trunks, vines, streams, and clearings passed as it ran,
Seeking another victim, this blight of the land,
The enemy of man.

Tune in next week for the thrilling conclusion of “The Traveler” and more every Poetry Wednesday!

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