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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #2172544
A grave robber has an encounter with a mysterious stranger

Plight of the Body Snatcher


The wife and babes are fast asleep
and I can ply my chosen trade;
I take my rusty pick and spade,
and softly out the door I creep;
Into a night of darkness deep.

Along the path I meet my mate
who carries tools of his own;
For no man wants to be alone
when venturing to tempt the fates
which must be met and cannot wait.

We stop before the hallowed ground
surrounded by an iron fence,
and with a feigned indifference
we scale it in a single bound;
Being sure to mask our sound.

We look around the gloomy site,
of crosses, flowers, stones and crypts;
Until we find the nondescript --
a simple stone of marble white
that's said to hold a treasure bright.

Here lies a man of some import
who vowed to take unto the grave
the gold and jewels that he had saved
from a life lived in the courts.
A sad and spiteful, greedy sort.

Rumours swirled about its worth
(The treasure that lay underneath);
And since it hadn't been bequeathed,
we set forth in a morbid mirth;
with picks and spades we break the earth.

Six feet down we strike the box,
and soon the dirt is cleared away.
My partner, with no words to say
hands me down a heavy rock,
which I then use to break the lock.

I pry the lid to no avail,
and hear my friend release a shout;
And as I quickly turn about,
I see a figure tall and pale
with cloven hoofs and horns and tail.

With eyes that burn like blazing coal,
he tells us of the corpse below.
Of a promise, years ago
made by the one now in the hole;
To trade success for his small soul.

And now he's come to claim his prize;
A ritual of mystery
An act that mortals shouldn't see.
And as he seems to grow in size,
my mate and I are mesmerized.

The sun comes up all fresh and new,
shining as the morning breaks.
As the light grows, I awake
to see among the morning dew
my former partner torn in two.

Of the man there is no trace,
but a movement grabs my eye--
a pair of constables nearby--
who make their way up to my place
with the keeper keeping pace.

When they get to where I sit,
a look of horror strikes them all.
Now, I'm sure to take the fall
for a crime I did not commit,
even though it looks like it

In jail I rot, despite the facts,
(the real villain disappeared)
and through the constant, crippling fear,
my mind falls to a single track...
Will he soon be coming back?


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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2172544