Cursed is thee; this child within. Not even planned, yet it grows! It grows, and I count the days. The days 'til I rid thee from me, flesh of my flesh. Bone of my bone. This thirteenth child I wish gone from me.


cursed since conception
Mother Leeds' thirteenth child
grows inside

Leaves rustle, giving way to his first taken steps. Be gone, wretched creature. I cast my eyes away from thee, never to lay them on thy winged and hoofed limbs. Be gone, I say! Be gone from my sight!

He flies
deep into the woods
forever damned

My thirteenth child. What have I done? But to cast thee out into the New Jersey wilderness and defend thyself, alone. What will come of thee?

He lives on,
if only in folklore,
the Jersey Devil