Masked, the dark stranger creeps into the room;
Around him there hovers a bleak pall of doom.
Sinful and sweet his movements may seem,
Killing his prey as they gently dream.
Emotionless, he cuts short their final hours;
Death lurks in his wake as he leaves their bowers.
Making his way through the cold, silent night
Under vaporous stars and waning moonlight,
Remorse holds no sway as he hunts his prey,
Damned, they’re all left to rot and decay.
Euphoria claims him as his victim’s blood flows;
Rancid stench left behind as the dead decompose.
Erratic his heart is as his steps take him home;
Restively he enters his own catacomb.
She awaits him, his hearth witch, hunched over a tome.
“We can marry,” says the bogeyman as he catches her waist,
“I’ve done their foul deed; their foes’ souls are erased.
Finally I can have you – to feck with those fools.
Every one better back off now that I’ve slain all my ghouls!”
For anyone coming to this blog for an update, this is it: everything’s a mess right now. I’m trying to put it all back together. I’ve unpublished some of my books in the meantime.
When I was twenty-two, I ran away to Prague, where I now sing to my black cat (who collects dustballs in her whiskers), eat chocolate for breakfast, and have lemon tarts every Thursday.
Sonya Lano 
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