07 Feb 2017
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1 minute read
The room is lit in hues of pale orange
The silence is shattered by a creaking door hinge
Wrestling the sheets she’s frantic in her nightmare
Gasping for air she can sense his evil glare.
Running through the forest she trips and falls
In the distance she hears the werewolf’s call
Scared to the bone she can’t move a muscle
Her brain tells her, move, quick, get up, hustle.
She runs blindly along, willed by sheer persistence
Her will to survive, he admires with utmost reverence
Fast as she can she moves through the night
Last thing she remembers is his stinging bite.
She awakes in her bed weak and worn
Scared and confused she looks at her bed clothes all torn
Her heart races fast she collapses in a faint
Awaking a little later her arm is bound tight in a restraint.
Fighting a fever is her nightly plight
Never awake long enough to see the bright light
Her eyes become dull, listless and dead
‘Her body is changing’ she’s heard it been said.
Twenty eight days later her fever has broken
Unto the bright moon her inner demon has awoken
She hears them howling and runs to her kind
Bonded forever, for upon a human body they’ve dined.