Written with a nod to the style and content of the classic Eldritch Tales, this poem plays with patterning as events unfold, maintaining pacing and holding a modern reader’s interests. Thanks Carly for this one.
*
Weary and crumbl’d, castle walls surround me,
Hard stone, now fallen away;
Left for a hundred years, a score,
Abandoned,
Save for this wandering soldier,
Not lost, but seeking his ever more.
I pressed in, amid decaying ruin
Bush and briar crowding ‘round,
Now, long overgrown;
And passing through them
I was scratched –
By the thorn’d cobbled stone.
Blood streamed down my hands and thighs,
And I, did pause
Staunching flow as best I can;
And heard – a voice,
— strange and beautiful, echo off the stone
She beseeched me, calling for me;
But one in all the land –
She called, entreating
Drawing onward;
Her voice was my command.
The stories told me,
To be cautious –
But fear, now thrown aside;
I continued, pacing faster,
Sought out my heart’s delight.
My bloodied hands, now held aloft, away from briar’s reach,
I pressed onward, hands held high,
And preventing further harm;
Seeking mystery, I continued, pushing further on.
From the turrets, a nesting family
Of darkish rooks, called hoarsely,
Crumbl’d ruins echoing alarm.
And yet –
Branches seemed to part around me,
Thorn’d briar trembled, mov’d with subtle grace;
Roses bobbed and scattered petals,
Red droplets stained the floor;
And still pursuing, endless seeking
I sought my ever more.
With soft caresses, brush eased aside,
As I passed by; tangled briar
Now no longer blocking path;
But, instead, waving onward,
Seemed to beckon,
Entreated my behalf.
The door appeared, I’m sure it did
Where none was there before,
And at that moment the rooks
High-stationed,
Set up their clamour’d roar.
The door stood waiting,
As though for me,
And only me alone;
Seizing the handle, I did push it;
Creaking, ancient timber shuddered,
And iron’d-hinges groaned.
And as it opened the silence struck me
— Quiet as a crypt
Then I saw her – it was she,
Hidden in the night,
The one I’d heard of, countless tales;
In that moment, door swung open,
I saw, my heart’s most truth,
— delight.
She stood buried in the shadows,
Dark hair tangled ‘round her worn face,
She’d been waiting, endless waiting
— a millennium or more;
And as I stepped in, further,
The rooks gave up a final, fearful roar.
As I stepped in, the gloom wrapped ‘round,
She shrank back;
And door slammed in from behind;
She hissed – her terror causing, leaping,
— sparking
Panick’d through my mind.
She stared at me, luscious creature
With eyes of ambered haze,
And hair hanging in wild tangles
About her wearied face;
Raising a single finger to her
Red, red lips of rose –
She implored me
Without speaking,
Nary a single word –
Join her – in isolation
Together we as one;
Souls bound for all eternity,
Shadow’d existence, for forever,
Amid thorn’d cobbled stone.
I tried to talk – God knows I did,
But what the use is speech
To a creature, surpassing centuries
Barely living – or undead?
She hissed, and wavered, and
Implored again, with a
Silent threat –
Those eyes beseeched me,
Ripe with warning,
I hung my head, and shied;
Glancing upward,
I caught her smile,
Sharp fangs gleaming wide
And stepping forward
I surrendered,
And met my newfound bride.
*
Carly Zee is a writer and dreamer of strange things. Her work appears online in different forms and places, including Scriggler and Shot Glass Journal. You can reach Carly through https://carlyzee.wordpress.com/
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