By Commander_Cadaver

Hung for crimes I did
Not commit,
I cursed the town
To forever haunt them.

The wind howling and blowing
My limp body around the gallows.

Now I roam the streets at night,
Consuming those guilty and their
Descendants that do not fear legends.
Their flesh and blood so sweet
To my insatiable hunger.

Hundreds of years of roaming
And yet I can never leave this
Small Town and their crimes.
Luckily my death brings

Yummy, tasty exotic dishes
For me to feast upon.

A couple take a picture of a bench
Marked with a plaque that states this
(Hahaha) is my final resting space.
They say my name as the flash
Of their phone takes the picture.

Behind them is a shadow of a man
With a neck bent at an extreme angle.

The couple turn around and see
Nothing at all except a bare
Patch of dead grass where I was buried.
Nothing grown there survives.

The couple turn back around only
To find my gaping mouth opened
And waiting for them.

The man goes first as I bite him
In half.
Internal organs and blood spill
To the ground as the female screams
For help.

The closest house turns off their
Lights and shut their windows.
Some people seem to believe
The legends.

The torso-less body falls
With a stuck thud as the woman
Tries to get up and run.
My claws grab her legs
And pull her down.

I open my mouth once more
And begin to devour her leg first,
Gorging my way up to her head.
Blood soaks the pavement
And the bench where the couple
Once sat and snapped a picture.


Morning comes and a groundskeeper
Makes his way to the bench
To clean what was left of the couple.

Fliers will go up soon with the word
"Missing" in bold letters on top.
Just like the others that didn't believe
In the legends of a small town.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2021 Commander_Cadaver
Published on Wednesday, September 22, 2021.     Filed under: "Horror" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

Do you believe in your hometown's urban legends?
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Comments on "Monster"

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  • Phalanx On Sunday, September 26, 2021, Phalanx (758)By person wrote:

    I'm not necessarily sure what you're doing with this. There's nothing wrong with liking the fray. I'm just afraid you might lose yourself. The light makes you feel dirty but, not everyone judged you by your stain. Keep writing my friend. I'm right there with you on the outskirts. Don't let darkness take you. I see too much light.

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