At the feet of Prophecy

It hasn’t been long
Not really
As far as the concept of time allows

But that creature in the shadows
With reddish blue eyes, too human.
I can’t forget it.

The stare, as watchful as mine
But wrong and appealing somehow
With corruption oozing hunger

It crept, bold as brass monkey balls
Observing with a mouthful of teeth
Spider silk strands of saliva dripping
The monster, it starved

I believe that Evil is confident
My theory proven
When it stepped into the light
Laying lineless palms upon the living

And with each pronouncement it spoke
The unhealthy glow of death
Enveloped the blissfully unaware

Recollection rings truer in hindsight
What appeared to be insane mutterings have come to pass

Nothing examples fact louder
Than the words it screamed
Burning spittle left scars, the rage
Horror in hilarity, it crowed;

“They can’t be saved, so stop trying
They are already dead or dying. They are mine.”

I dreamt of this daemon again last night
The same slippery steps to a darker place
Deeper shadows that defy the light
And a tiny glittering reminder
Shining like the sun on the filthy floor
At the feet of Prophecy



Twisted Tales Patti Beeton

Available now for Kindle and in paperback - Just click the link!
Available now for Kindle and in paperback – Just click the link!

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