The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Wolf Moon and Wind
by Amy Zoellers
The ponderous book of Ancient Secrets,
all incense of vanilla and toasted nut,
only perched on its heavy stand of rosewood, lifetimes,
all incense of vanilla and toasted nut,
only perched on its heavy stand of rosewood, lifetimes,
until the night of the Wolf Moon and a shrieking wind.
“Why does it cry?” I said aloud without thought.
The hearthfire leaped. The rosewood shivered
And the weathered book bound in unknown skin
“Why does it cry?” I said aloud without thought.
The hearthfire leaped. The rosewood shivered
And the weathered book bound in unknown skin
tumbled to the floorboards.
Her pages fiddled, pedaled, stood upright long minutes
Her pages fiddled, pedaled, stood upright long minutes
as she lay there.
Then settled, stretching open to the wisdom I must read:
A treatise of the Wolf Moon and wind, and it warned me—
Your doom is sealed if you neglect to hang
Then settled, stretching open to the wisdom I must read:
A treatise of the Wolf Moon and wind, and it warned me—
Your doom is sealed if you neglect to hang
the silver coffee spoons at all doors and windows.
Do you hear the wind shrieking? Then it is too late.
The wolf-man is running by now…
The wind did shriek, all right.
“Here are the coffee spoons.
A bouquet of wolf’s bane,” I said.
But my skin was of orchids. I was afraid to open the latch.
And now a scroll of full moons have passed
And I am altered, gorged with the blood and sinews
of my neighbors.
It’s an age since the ancient book slammed itself shut under hell’s own power
And I am too animal now for anything like remorse.
Do you hear the wind shrieking? Then it is too late.
The wolf-man is running by now…
The wind did shriek, all right.
“Here are the coffee spoons.
A bouquet of wolf’s bane,” I said.
But my skin was of orchids. I was afraid to open the latch.
And now a scroll of full moons have passed
And I am altered, gorged with the blood and sinews
of my neighbors.
It’s an age since the ancient book slammed itself shut under hell’s own power
And I am too animal now for anything like remorse.
.
Fiction © Copyright Amy Zoellers
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com.
More from Amy Zoellers:
Ordeal in French Lipstick
Art! Fun!! Poetry and song! Portraits, dolls, prints, jewelry… and so much more! Find Amy on Instagram: Hipness and Outrage
Spreading the Writer's Word 
A chilling poem.
Oh, I love this! The imagery is fantastic throughout and that last stanza brought chill
“Too animal now …” that’s a good one, Amy! Enjoyed your little story lots.