Goblin Market Part VIII

By CBramkamp creative writing, Poetry Comments Off on Goblin Market Part VIII

The Preacher still danced on the graves of the wicked

The wicked! The wicked did perish!

I told you all so!  He danced and danced a round, spinning dance

 

The girl drew up as she watched,

the ground shifted, the preacher stumbled,

Sam threw out a warning arm

She pulled up to her full height, taller by much more than when they began

he noticed with astonishment.

The wicked.

The Preacher fell into the dust and rocks.

 

All the voiceless women, she whispered

the stoned, the burned, the buried, the raped

How do you know the wicked

 

Because they are gone!  He howled from the ground

The howl danced from his lips and was caught up in a train whistle.

What was that?

Sam smiled

The Goblins travel much faster.

Sam found a tin full of gas, surrounded

by skeletons with long fingered hands

Mad Max meets O. Henry

he grinned. We need a worthy receptacle.

It took hours but they found a sports car

low to the ground, fast he promised.

 

It roared to life cutting off every other

possible sound, she clutched the seat, the window

screaming like the demons from hell

She never moved this fast.

 

Sam yelled straight from his soul

They careened through the flat desert

in a more or less straight line.

Sound trailed behind them – 100 miles an hour

 

Took care of the next seven days, he grinned like a maniac.

Her heart was forever damaged

by all that speed. She just knew it.

Can we do it again?

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