By Henry Black
Just a quick note before the story!
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You’ll find you can’t run away
When you enter the demon’s play.
They drive you into their trap
Torture you until you snap.
The thing you fear most,
You will find will be your host.
This is only if you sin,
That we invite you within.
We punish the guilty,
Of that there is plenty.
We send them deep down below,
I hope you will never have to know!
Four new victims for our feast,
We feel hungry at the least.
A doctor, laywer,
A boss, and a robber.
Heading to a party on All Hallow’s Eve,
They were drove off the road and had to leave,
their vehicle behind as they ventured through,
the deadly forest that obscured their view.
The doctor named Rita,
the lawyer named Peter,
tripped in the ongoing dark,
searching for some kind of landmark.
The boss named Annie,
the lawyer named Danny,
helped them to their feet,
they see a sign written very neat.
Welcome to Demon’s Play,
the sign did surely say.
They saw a light in the distance,
They thought after an instant,
there may be help ahead,
little did they know it was all in their head.
A quaint little town lay before them,
so icy cold it made their bones turn numb.
Not a soul wandered the streets,
not any small children in white sheets,
which was strange for a halloween night,
just the streetlamps casting a dim light.
All of the shops and houses were shut and boarded,
with emptiness and darkness they were rewarded.
‘Look!’ Annie said pointing as she began,
pointing to a little gypsy caravan.
‘There is a light inside!’,
A place in which they could confide.
Three knocks upon the wooden door,
they didn’t have to do no more,
before an old woman small and grey,
rudely threatened they go away.
‘You’ll all get what you deserve!’
Angrily she shrieked with no reserve.
‘Just wait your turn and you will see!,
What lies ahead is only three!
He comes for you one at a time,
look out for the telltale sign,
it irresistibly draws you closer,
a sweet symphony by a demonic composer.’
That was enough for the four,
the woman they began to abhor.
They were not sinners they thought,
the truth was they knew nought.
The voice called out to Peter,
he began to drift, metre by metre.
The others did not notice him leave,
as they were too busy trying to retrieve,
a way home out of the darkness,
if only it was something they could harness.
Peter wandered to an old graveyard,
towards a mausoleum badly charred.
A raven watched from a tree,
it knew that its end would be beastly.
The rusted door pried open,
he reached his head through and began to scope in.
An open casket there on the floor,
he had never hated nothing more.
Being buried alive, that was his fear,
a fate that was looming ever near.
Out of the shadows and into view,
there rose a dark figure and a cold wind blew.
He reached out a ghostly hand,
and uttered his only demand.
‘Confess! You must. To your crime so evil,
it is time to face the upheaval.
‘Putting an innocent man away forever,
his innocence was known to me on this endeavour.
He committed no crime, for that I’m certain,
and now I am ready to face the final curtain!’
The figure laughed at Peter’s tears,
that were solely returned by cheers.
Thousands of skeletons rose from their tombs,
they were without a doubt not costumes.
The undead laughed at the disgraced man,
for he had reached the end of his lifespan.
They lead Peter into the coffin on the ground,
the coffin was covered with a mound.
Peter lay there in the dark,
his situation had become stark.
Trapped for eternity underground,
The demons made sure he could not make a sound.
What happens to the final three?
Well, there you will have to wait and see,
if they make it through,
this story will continue…
One final thing. The work that goes into Abramacabre is very time consuming and unfortunately I do not get paid to do so. I enjoy doing this so much and would love to be able to continue to do so. If you could be so kind as to making any sort of donation via PayPal that would be greatly appreciated.
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