THE CHILDREN

This is my entry for this week's Friday Fright on DarkMediaCity and my entry for the Halloween contest. 



The Children


Dusk arrived and children teary, walked the streets a little dreary,
Halloween in all its glory seeming to escape their core.
And so they came, almost marching, all at once they started stomping,
No more were they simply coming, coming as they had before.
Now they had some kind of mission, walking down the streets of yore.
More than this, they knew for sure.


Thus there was no need to ponder, as to houses they did wander,
Seeking all their bags to fill with sweetened treasure at each door.
And so they went, filled with sorrow, knowing that upon the ’morrow,
Even winners would not show- show what happened at the door,
No one on this night would show- show what happened at the door.
Much more ‘round the night to store.

And the wails of all not certain, hollered out against transgression.
Tortured-angered  by the horrors of what happened once before;
Thus the anger now was pleading, from each child now entreating,
As the vision was repeating, sending out a call to war -
Some bad vision was repeating, sending out a call to war-
Thus it was, a call to war.

All at once their hearts grew harder; and with no one would they barter,
Hatred now for one and all, no mercy coming from their core.
Relentless now were they coming, in their souls a song was strumming,
Animosity was humming, humming as in souls they bore.
And their anger spewed much venom, as they reached each opened door.
Very soon, folks lived no more.

People in the homes were crying, as the children started slicing,
Stabbing, piercing, dicing flesh as no one ever had before;
But the shrieking was soon broken, and the sounds were no more spoken,
And the air around did darken, but no sounds were there for sure-
For within the homes no movement , nothing that was there for sure-
Surely this, and nothing more.

Evil all around was churning, hatred in their hearts was burning,
As each body piece was filling up the bags the children bore.
Now there was no need for pretense, all the children having full sense,
Knowing that there was no penance coming from the evil gore-
Knowing now the truth was coming, coming from the evil gore-
‘Tis the truth and nothing more. 

Door to door their steps no stutter, blood flowed down like from a gutter,
Drenching all within the homes with fluids flowing on the floor.
Slipping, sliding, all around now, knowing what but wondering how,
That maybe they could wrest a vow from children coming through the door.
Maybe they could wrest a vow from children coming through the door.
Maybe this and something more.

Thus with all the children smiling, all their pent up hate was driving,
Them to limits no one knew was present in their bodies’ core.
Once the homes had been a haven, keeping out all those thought brazen
‘Nuff to pucker like a raisin those who guarded safety door.
But now there would be no protector guarding at the safety door.
No one left to guard the door.

Residents all acted poorly, still not seeing at all clearly,
Why the children wished to enter into their once private door.
And they really had no feeling why they came with so much grieving
Almost like they were bereaving everything beyond the door-
No one knew about the sadness for the things beyond the door,
Sadness lurked beyond the door.

But the children, quite forlornly, marched as one so uniformly
That their spirits filled the air with sounds of grief on air did soar.
Now their souls no longer shuttered, feelings true now could be uttered,
And their cries no more were muttered, and so the houses filled with gore.   
Into the night the children came, and so the houses filled with gore.
Blood did spread upon the floor.

Justice meted out not token, went to those with promise broken
When the barbs of cruel unkindness showered down upon the poor
Children who were born to fester, never meaning ‘ere to pester,
Those who took each simple gesture to mean something to abhor.
The hateful beings finding things, to mean something to abhor.
Now they would be no more.

From building large, they came walking, on this night their bodies hiding.
Under costumes, who could tell from where they came for what they wore?
Even though their steps were shuffling, all because of so much suff’ring,
Which the residents were stuffing in their heads of feelings poor-
Evil people had been stuffing in their heads of feelings poor.
So they needed all the gore.

Now too late for second guessing, residents in hearts confessing,
All the horrors they had shown against those who did once implore.
When they saw the bright lights shining, in those eyes which had no whining,
They had merely started lining all their souls with filthy gore.
People merely started lining all their souls with filthy gore.
Filthy gore and so much more.

Taunts and jeers from horrid censor made the feelings ever tenser,
As specimens perceived so perfect judged those they did not adore.
For those who wished so to be free, did not rejoice with any glee,
When those they met refused to see, the beauty in their inner core.
And those around refused to see, the beauty in their inner core.
And they had beauty in their core.

Laughter is a thing of evil, when it mocks those seen as feeble,
Poking fun at children born with defects now that they must bore.
Now the children who are haunted, by the hatred of those daunted,
Know it’s time to face the taunted evil lurking at the door.
So they must attack the taunted evil lurking at the door.
Taunted evil and much more.

So it is a thing of evil, attacking those seen as feeble,
That attached itself to minds of those who victims now abhor.
Fallow feelings now are maiden, and the souls are heavy laden,
And so the light is now shaven, from the children needing more.
And also hope is now shaven, from the children needing more.
Light and hope, and yet there’s more.

So with knowledge now imparting, all around the streets be charting,
All the vengeance that the children need to use to change the score.
Damn the hardships having spoken to the dreams forever broken,
Due to all the bad taunts spoken, coming out from ev’ry door.
And so the children march as one, not sparing those at any door.
On the floor, there is much gore.

And the children, never quitting, still are killing, still are killing,
Down each street and to each house where love has never lived for sure.
Even though their souls are feeling all the pangs of justice reeling,
In the world where they are dealing special law that rules for more.
Thus they come to one last house before they end their night of gore.
Night repeated-nevermore!



Blaze McRob