Hammers on Bone

the whip cracks across

his back

he whispers

“no more”

.

ancient demons

rise from the ground

making every grass grey

mist of horrifying magnitude

slowly seeps into their

lungs

choking

holding

a warm yellow blanket

that smells of sulfur

all the while

the dark lord

smiles

and holds his whip

thinking he has

conqured

it all.

.

the neighbor hood watch

never relented

and even as darknesss turned night

there was a light

on

at the end of the street.

 


This poem is inspired by the Monster She Wrote, Prompt Challenge: Day 25-Hammers on Bone. I will be trying to follow this prompt challenge as much as I can throughout the month of October! Photo by michael schaffler on Unsplash.

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