What started as a gentle stroll
In Midnight Forest, black as coal,
Became a prickly, nervy walk
As all around I heard them talk.
"He tramples on our sacred earth
From which The Ancestors gained birth.
Come, mighty Oaks and seal his fate.
Act now, before it is too late!"
The Dryads' urgings chilled my spine.
I flashed a peaceful palms-up sign.
Alas, the spirits wanted blood
Stout branches lashed me where I stood.
I sink, despairing, to my knees
While blows rain down from vengeful trees.
As I expire my last breath rails
Against misleading Nature Trails.
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| Writing Prompt |
The challenge is to write a poem that contains some form of horror or thriller. No more than 100 words. |
Author Notes
Sometimes, when I walk in the woods near my home, I imagine I can hear the wood nymphs talking, disapprovingly, among themselves and muttering darkly about revenge.
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