Pressed up against a darkened tree,
Shay's lips are clamped to still his breath.
It is too late for him to flee,
The Shadowman that whispers, "death."

The sound of bending grass draws near,
Then fades away into the night.
Shay tilts his head and tries to hear,
Above the drumbeats of his fright.

Clammy hands that grasp the hilt,
Of shiny steel that lies beneath,
Are subtle blends of fear and guilt.
The sword slides softly in its sheath.

Crouching low in shadows dark,
Shay moves off toward the west.
Within a tower tall and stark,
Rests the object of his quest.

Around the tower the demons howl.
Gleaming scythes all sharp to slay.
Like large, black spiders on the prowl,
They spread their web to trap their prey.

Softly slithering through the grass,
By several demons on the rise,
He stills his thrumming heart to pass,
Unnoticed as he seeks his prize.

Within the tower and down the hall,
A chamber holds the magic stone.
The flickering sconces on the wall,
Give Shay relief. He is alone.

Trembling hands reach forth to grasp,
The glowing stone from off its perch.
A low, cruel voice with grating rasp,
Causes Shay to wheel and lurch.

With blurring speed and sword in hand;
No time to still his mounting fear,
Shay looks upon the Shadowman,
Who has a condescending sneer.

"You heard the legend as a boy.
Twas I who spoke to you that day.
The magic stone was just a ploy,
For you to come…so we can play."

They lumber to the tower in pairs.
The night is pierced with eerie shrieks.
The demons hurry up the stairs,
With crawling gaits like insect freaks.

With scythes raised high, they circle near.
Shay forces out a smile to say,
"Shadowman, you caused my fear,
But it is gone…I will not play."

Shay stirs from air so cool and damp.
The light of dawn brings on the day.
He saddles Star and breaks the camp,
Then mounting up rides on his way.

The horse rears up and Shay slides off,
Before he hears the grating voice.
Rebuking words, a laughing scoff.
"Did you think you had a choice?"

The Shadowman is not a dream.
Pains within Shay's body wrack.
Quivering nerves and piercing scream,
As slashing scythes come down and hack.

Published in Outer Darkness magazine 1999