The Guardian Of Darkness #Wattys2016

33. Of Humans and Fantasy

The letter

1954

Dear child,

She laid under the scintillating stars,
That was a cure to her infinite scars.
Oh - it felt like an old reverie;
A sweetness that moment, to believe!

She bore you in the southern wild,
So reedy as an English child!
She's from another place,
'Twas probably from space.

We danced that night,
Silent with delight;
Still so glorious -
But so notorious.

The wind was strong among the trees,
The moon, a ghost upon cloudy seas,
The road was moonlight over the moor,
Screams and whispers came from the door!

Death was no longer coming,
Death was here humming,
A tune from hell,
Which killed her as well.

Her eyes grew wide as she drew one last breath,
Shattered, she warned me with her death.
I did not know who stood,
Behind her with drenched red blood.

The devil in that night,
Who took away all the light,
Made a louder blast
Which warned me at last!

I had to find you my child,
I searched - with terror wild!
You were nowhere to be found,
Then I heard that bloody sound.

I wanted to escape,
But no I was agape.
This was too deadly;
The menace made me madly.

Oh - I drew one last blink,
At that moment it made a wink,
Signalling its victory,
Laughing at our misery

Its divergence,
Its intransigence,
Made me a ghost,
And it terrified most.

As a spook,
I wrote this for you to look,
At how your life,
Is a knife.

It will come back one day,
And never be on its way.
It will claim to be your father,
And even your lovely mother.

We made a pact with demons;
It was as sour as lemons.
Now we see you as the sun -
Which doesn't make us run.

Your dad,
Harold

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