Story Night submission : An Impaler Came Calling
Late one
night, Doom’s door flew wide,
Horrible gasps of pain escaped from inside!
A grating, a grinding, claws rending stone,
Up from below came an inhuman moan!
From the dark pit below, it came into sight,
Long, pointy, blood-stained black as the night,
This horrific spear-like claw came into view,
And before long – oh woe – there were two!
As the spears scrabbled around the edge of the pit,
Unearthly cursing came as it slipped, “Oh skritt!”
A ghastly yellowish head appeared, eyes it had none,
But it sniffed the air, seeking the next meal to come!
Up from Doom’s darkness, the impaler arose.
How it escaped the gauntlet, nobody knows!
But it hauled itself outward, into the night,
Seeking, ever seeking, weak victims to bite!
Loping across the forests of Umbra’s plain,
It devoured a nightmare, out grazing in the rain,
It sighted the lights of the city afar,
And lurched in manner unholy to Umbra’s bar!
The beast stood at the tavern, the guests all a-quiver,
The barkeeper shook, spilling ale like a river,
This was the end, he acknowledged in fear,
“Come on then, good man! Pour me a beer!”
For tis thirsty work, guarding gauntlets in Doom,
And Nix keeps no ale in the shop hidden in gloom,
Who can blame a poor impaler, for wanting a drop?
But this poem’s now over, and so I shall stop.
