Scene Five: Lycanthrope for a Dream
L’art Cullinaire (Valkyrie Kerry)
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served,
Romanticised date, I remember you,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
‘What is this sweet meat?’ More than I deserved,
Passions rekindled, guilt for doubting you,
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served.
Evil smirk spreads, ‘Your arm I had preserved!’
Guilt abates, once again your colours true,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
‘Raising two wolves, their hunger I observed,
And fed them meat cutlets as one must do,’
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served.
I hide my horror, submission subserved,
Taking each mouthful, I carefully chew,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
My resolve steady, plan in place deserved,
‘Werewolves made great horror beasts too, that slew!’
Crimson candles glow, meaty cutlets served,
First desirous date, feigning fear reserved.
Carnivorous Carnival (Dyer-Bolique)
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair,
‘You remember your place, my hold ever renewed!
For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
You bask on pleasantries, humouring my air,
Callously agreeable, contented, and shrewd,
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair.
As doe eyes adore, awaiting my approval’s care,
‘A pleasant idea,’ a mock and impugn,
‘For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
‘My canines are trained, versed in savagery’s prayer,
But fear not my heart, you they will not consume!’
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair.
You dance and connive, I see you in my vacant stare,
Within my gaze, darkly dreaming visions accrue,
‘For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
I have ensnared you once, for I am the fox to your hare,
‘Tonight, we hunt, for flesh’s atonement is due!’
Hope plays the role contrite, L’art Cullinaire served on despair,
‘For what is flavour if loyalty, if yours is insipid impaired?’
Valkyrie’s Ballade (Valkyrie)
‘Master, your distrust is misplaced,
For you are the whole world to me,
Turning teacher to your student,
A mind shrewd and gallant to see.
Safe with you I lay, submissive,
Your feisty weapon, thanks to thee.’
My plan sadly remains, our end,
But you are the whole world to me.
‘Now to these wolves, permit my speech,
At midnight bars cease to serve, see?
Hairy dregs wander marauding,
Waiting for the wolves to roam free.
Drunks howl at the moon, unhindered,
Set their undeserving soul’s free.’
Soon we fall sadly together,
But you are the whole world to me.
‘Empty sheds sit behind the bar,
Deprived wolves in the pig pit free,
A drunk man is easily led,
Prospecting a woman like me.
Sensual and bizarre to see,
Falling for a woman like me.’
I have ordered our doom’s sweet drug.
But you are the whole world to me.
Escaping to capture wolf’s bane,
Pain of the nightmare soon to come,
Your insanity spirals free,
But you are the whole world to me.
The Pit and Long Boar (Dyer-Bolique)
Our plan, born of true heinous,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Yet tonight they feast on standing pig,
Such pleasant fare to absorb.
Within a tavern’s hospitality,
Hogs adore to imbibe,
Pre-marinated and duly prepped,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Ambiance imperative to set the mood,
A ramshackle hovel dutifully disguised,
A table set with finery, nothing crude,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Docile and ready they await their company,
Savouring the smell of the meal to arrive,
For on temptation’s arm, he will be led,
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
Master and pet, we must be prepared,
The hour draws sundry and nigh,
Soon the punters will traverse a yonder,
Day’s turmoil and beverage deprived.
Man’s best friend finds true gallery,
In this repurposed livery, improvised,
As such we wait, for customers true fate,
And as always…
Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.
GIGANtic Hog Ensnared (Valkyrie)
Staggering from the roadhouse, howling liquor at the moon,
Strategically well-dressed, I smile at the great goon.
Weeknight when most have more sense, sly words distract. Promises,
Soft lullaby on the breeze, offering more later on,
Holding his gaze as they leave, punters go home, skirmishes.
His beard ruffles to his chest, as dirty claws scratch at head,
And we are alone tonight, under moonlight’s gleam, red.
Taking his giant, rough paw, I lead him to the old farm,
Assenting ego follows, for what woman can do harm?
Through mire we slowly trudge, we cannot arrive too soon,
Staggering from the roadhouse, howling liquor at the moon.
His beard ruffles to his chest, as dirty claws scratch at head,
Unbalanced but desperate, to follow a strange being,
Desirous though most flaccid, unlikely worthy in bed.
Inside barn doors my world resides, hungry wolves baying for blood,
Staggering in the farmhouse, howling wolves baying for blood.
Likened to Lycan (Dyer-Bolique)
Abundance of flesh, teetering on a stuporous step,
Carried dutifully, and on a drunkard’s resolve,
Resigning himself, a true wretch of the unkept,
Your body not to be touched or involved!
Sacrificial, our desirous fool will endure my scorn,
I glare on, anticipating my friends to intercept,
Realisation dawns, as his forearm is torn,
Tattered flesh screaming with crimson effect!
Restless meat, dragged to this vestibule of violence’s floor,
Fangs dispense their intended and evolutionary design,
Shielding his face, with haemorrhaging appendage, is this disgusting boar,
His pathetic squawking cut short and rendered benign!
The offering’s complexion changing, as mandible is ripped from head,
I match his bleating, as I find my voice enduring a lycanthropic illusion,
A cry soon answered, as you, my Valkyrie advance, howling with a Banshee’s dread,
Observing the feast, content in our current spree, gracious of our evolution!
Her eyes hypnotic,
My own absorbing a truth,
Future dystopic.
YOU ARE READING
The Thorn and His Rose: An Immortalis Chapbook
HorrorA theatrical, visceral horror tale. Artistically presented, methodically planned, and cruelly realized. Lovers, serial killers, turning their macabre passion into an artform, but as their depravities grow, so too does their respective paranoias. As...
