The Night It Happened.

 

This is no ordinary poem,

Filled with flowers and an enchanting wood.

This is a tale of horror,

Filled with the obligatory virgin’s blood .

 

On a dark and stormy night,

The nights that only these terrible acts occur.

The innocent, happy go lucky Jessica,

Went on a deadly walk fuelled on cherry liquor.

 

Nobody saw her leave her house,

With perfectly trimmed bushes and picket fence.

Strolling on the road to nowhere.

Her phone and cares left indoors without any sense.

 

Jessica was floating on a cloud of sweet alcohol,

She hardly made a splash in the waterfalls.

She didn’t notice the crows flying around,

Oblivious to their loud, shrill, warning calls.

 

Her mind was full of beautiful music,

The lyrics all about fairies and a magical life.

The darkness packed of intrigue and wonder,

memories of her childhood were rife

 

A figure was lurking in the total darkness.

Ready to take Jessica by surprise.

This night wasn’t quite so innocent,

This was the night that “it” would arise.

 

The rain bounced off his bald head,

Streaming into his dark bloodshot eyes.

Dressed in a heavy leather jacket

All adding to the black , menacing guise.

 

He slinked stealthily towards her,

With hells thoughts burning in his mind.

This innocent teenager will be easy,

Just right for the rack I’ve designed

 

Quick as a hungry king cobra he pounced,

Knocking poor Jessica to the sodden floor.

Her delicate skin cruelly pierced through,

Liquid enters like a dream opening a door.

 

Fuzzy light slithers in a crack in a blind,

Reality comes knocking like a mad man.

Broken glass and half eaten chicken wings,

Strone around this mouldy old caravan.

 

Tightly bound with fraying duct tape.

He To the specially made rust covered rack.

The leather covered bald man before her,

Stepped up and gave her a smack.

 

 

Just then something happened inside her,

Something she hadn’t felt before.

Her muscles and tendons were growing,

And suddenly she gave out a raw.

 

Jessica’s teeth were like razor blades,

Sharpened to an inch of their lives.

And her freshly manicured nails,

Resembling a fine set of knives.

 

The bald man stood there before her,

He felt as tiny as a little mouse.

The virgin’s blood gushed over everything,

And Jessica strolled back to her house.

 

 

 

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