by David Leigh
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
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Spag's wood ( Cane's tale )
Along the avenue we daren't talk
Ears attuned to foreign sound.
Sniffing air as we did walk
Like the keenly scented hound.
The path was narrow dark and long
Trees knit closely overhead.
A dominance of raven's song
That awful crowing of the dead.
Spag's wood, an evil place
The path will take us to the heart.
Every tree a devil's face
A journey we'd rather didn't start.
It came out suddenly vicious, mean
It's face an ugly, hissing mask.
Spitting acid, slimy, green
To kill it was awesome task.
With sword raised and at full tilt
It's head was severed from the trunk
We ran it through up to the hilt
My god the vial creature stunk.
What manner of beast , what genus could
This horrid, hideous, fiend be?
That moves so quickly in the wood.
It's teeth could tear the heart from thee.
Nervously we reached the place
Where the others found the bones.
In the tree we saw the face
The nasty keeper of the stones.
Searching in between the rocks
We sited blood and human flesh.
A heart stored within a box
Rotten, stinking, far from fresh.
We found more bones, a human skull
And what was left of Jacca's head.
His eyes lifeless, grey and dull
Skin torn, purple and red.
I remember my heart was pounding then
Seeing Jacca's horrible fate.
Alone he died in the glen
Not the way to remember your mate.
Anger, yes that's what we felt
Revenge on what did this to Jacca.
Smash the bastard, take it's pelt.
Burn it till it's flesh turns blacker.
I yelled and screamed "Come out you ghoul!"
Feeling it watch us from the scrub.
My tantrum made me sound a fool
To the worldly Beelzebub.
In the air we smelled it's breath
Carried on the westerly wind.
Close at hand, it reeked of death.
We chased it till the forest thinned.
The open moor lay ahead
It's ghastly shape a silhouette.
Moving quickly as it led
We felt we'd catch the monster yet.
Then saw it go into the mist
That always hangs across the moor.
Vanishing as though it didn't exist.
Through a secret, invisible door.
We searched and searched until the moon.
Staying together as we went.
Frustrated, we swore to come back soon.
Kill this thing, a promise meant.