The Spell

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Smoke rises through the trees into the night.

Herbs burn to ash, releasing bitter scent.

Dark figure stands by flick’ring firelight.

Strange shadows leap and play like eldritch wights

Depicting scenes of endless soul’s torment.

Smoke rises through the trees into the night.

The blaze burns down to embers, still alight

The quiet peace belies evil intent.

Dark figure stands by flick’ring firelight.

Then wind comes up – the fire reignites

Flares higher, louder, burns without relent –

Smoke spirals up through trees into the night –

Dark figure, arms outspread, completes the rite

And screams the incantation until spent.

Dark figure stands, fatigued, by firelight.

Soon those who had done wrong would know their plight,

And then would come a keening, pained lament.

Smoke rises through the trees into the night.

Dark figure smiles by flick’ring firelight.

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Ever wonder what really happened to that kid who bullied me in second grade and then supposedly moved to Mongolia? :)