Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Narrative Halloween Poems | Narrative Poems About Halloween

These Narrative Halloween poems are examples of Narrative poems about Halloween. These are the best examples of Narrative Halloween poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Narrative | |

On Halloween Night

My family had money, political power and pride, oh yes pride.
They say that pride comes before the fall, that is so true.
When I was born into the hideous world, my parents lives shattered.
Rains of glass pierced their future, stuck in the shards of sickening.
I was abnormal, not forgivable abnormal either, I was twisted disfigured.
Black tinted irises, the white of eyes tinted red; lips like a slice of a knife.
Fingerless left hand curling into my chest, and no color to my pale skin.

I was taken away immediately, only warmed by my mothers affection.
She loved me when fathers eyes showed only hated from his broken hopes.

I required blood transfusions for my body produced a vial poison.
A modern day vampire with a machine as a supplier.
I watched the world from the outside, the attic window my reward.
The suburb streets filling with families, I grew lonely and I suffered.

I watched as the streets filled with Halloween decorations, interesting.
My mind, sharp as a tack, asked my mother, "could I go out on Halloween?"
She loved me something fierce, I already knew she would say no.
My blood began to boil but I held down my fury as she punctured me.
Another needle in my arm, bruises from every poke laughed at me.
My mother, so caring, before me, held me in her arms and tears silent came.
She mourned me, the damage that father did before he left.
I became host to barbed wire scars on my neck, a knife puncture to the heart.
No matter what he tried, how he tried to kill me, I just could not die.

As I thumbed my wounds, I knew what I had to do.
Mother tried to stop me, I did not wish her harm, but her old heart stopped.
I gathered her in my arms, with the moon as a back light I walked the main street.
Step by step in the sea of trick or treaters, I did not go unnoticed,
I went applauded, the skin that I was in was a costume to the world.
And I knew what I had to do.
This town would wear masks year round. This town would be my town.
This town is Halloween Town. And I am the year round horror show.



08-29-2014
For Contest: On Halloween Night
Sp. Gail Angel Doyle


Details | Narrative | |

October's Gift

It is October again, but I have another in mind
One long ago, and it brings tender memories
It wasn't the usual, of Halloween kind
Of parties and goblins, of which there were many

It was a year of some changes, our family had moved
I was ten years old...struggling and shy
A small little town, I'd been replanted and torn 
It was late in October...now uprooted and more...
A different school....a country lane....no close neighbors next door

On Halloween night, it rained and it poured
The end of the world...I was unhappy and bored
Leaving what had been home, familiar and sure
Where our old street had been filled
With Halloween thrills
Here in the country, ...no one came to the door

I was dressed to go out...but storms plagued the night
My mom understood....she saw my sad plight

She went up to her room, made up her face
She combed up her hair, until it stood on it's roots
Covered her face with black fireplace soot
She threw on her robe, and pulled on dad's boots
Crept out the back door, and to the front porch

When the doorbell rang....I jumped in delight!
Trick-or-treaters had come to our house this dark night!!
When I opened the door, at first I didn't see
It was mom, ...trying to hard, bring me some glee!
She grabbed me and laughed and pulled me to come
Out into the rainstorm....up the road we would run
We ran in the downpour, getting soaked to our skin
Laughing and yelling....such fun it had been!

Later that night, we warmed by the fire
She let me stay up....no one was tired
So cozy and warm...no longer so cold
With popcorn, and candy...and the ghost stories told
That one Halloween, on that night of the storm
Was the best Halloween....and reminds me of home.....
I'll never forget  when each Halloween comes
The gift of the fun....   all thanks to my mom.....


Details | Narrative | |

Halloween Eve Black Mass Incantation

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 
	
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany
(October 5, 2014) (Narrative Incantation poetic format)


Details | Narrative | |

THE OPAQUEST NARRATIVE

In Michigan, the weather can change for the worst in October.
This particular Halloween came a blizzaring.
The lights went out and in a dark, dark room, candles were lit; therein, the opaquest 
narrative was captured.
* With the shape of With figment With look I will invent the human. Through the mind Via light With aspect The being I will project. I saw sadness. It stared directly at me. I gazed back. It begins to glare. I looked away. Why am I afraid? It is an ape, a primate. With child fists, I walked toward this apelike creature and strike out. Finally, I saw more than eyes and it pounces. It is a little child as a man. My hands represented some insight. Would we fight? ** The universe stood as earth. Solar we are to the sky above. Humanity shouts with a hoarse voice. Man, woman, and child stands as an echo. God sent the demons. The sinners are all of us. Through commandment of what Hell is Heaven is not. Demons are with God. The Pacific Ocean is the end of the world. It runs east and west. Why do we not investigate this? [Because our capabilities are limited!] Are we afraid of what we will find? We discovered each other and now we hesitate. Procrastination is a thing that delays knowledge. Are we wise to seek? Demons are with God. Are we? *** Body [body] {Body}! Gut (gut)! Skin and bones wake up! I am a reincarnation of that that is not known. Many have come before me but none was as I am. I am the body for the human to gut a man. However, women are now involved and they want to be in the belly. Instinctive they are but this was only for man to do. Why do they want to be that damned fool? Unconscious to the world that they are within, one would ask self why they want to be like men. The answer becomes to fit in. What if there is one left out? The answer becomes their bodies have been gutted and they are only GI. **** The Moon has no Gods. The Sun is what speaks to us. It tells us prophesy and what the world shall become. We are mongoloid, brown and bronzed spiritual to our existence. Our tribes are of North America. A hundred plus [we] stand[s]. Our land is our strength. We fought. We won. We lost. Died from disease but gave birth once again. Our population stands now and we are healthy. The European man has given our wisdom and knowledge. Our minds are set on our economic growth. We will become political minded. Five hundred nations are we those lost tribes of our history. ***** The mockery of man is a stance of incorrectness. It transforms through government and states that your freedoms are not anything to believe in. You, as people, are nothing but possessions and no one knows who is blessed. You are lucky to be here. Your way of life is given by our nation’s wealth. We are brought together as immigrants and the natives of this country are indigenous. We cannot pretend that we are more than that. We must pedestal ourselves to unity and know that people are only structure to adhere. One came for liberation. Others came via slavery. Nomads were unbound. They let them in yet they were said to be uncivilized. Today we are unified. We are the United States of America bound, bonded, and realized. {We are gratis; free to form our own lives.} ______________________________________________| PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 13, 2014!


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part One

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz

Prologue
This is a rather grim epic poetic tale of Rosalia, a 16th century German witch who terrorized villages, destroyed the lives and corrupted the souls of many people throughout the countryside in the Harz Mountains in Germany. 

Rosalia focused her evil and malicious activities at the outset in a land area directly below the Brocken summit in the Harz. Over the time and extent of her macabre reign as a Black Witch and a Master of the Black Arts, Rosalia began to expand her campaign of evil among other provincial areas of the Harz beyond the Brocken. Her periodic nightly raids on villages in the Harz are part of the continuing legends of witchcraft and sorcery that still pervade the local culture there to this very day. 

Rosalia in modern day parlance was the “real deal” when it came to wreaking havoc and pandemonium among mankind. That is, she was truly a redoubtable force of evil and unmitigated malevolence, not to be toyed with nor underestimated by anyone seeking to confront her. Rosalia was bent on fulfilling Lucifer’s principal goals: destroying the peace and harmony of mankind; disrupting the holy balance of the relationship between Man and God; corrupting the eternal souls of men, women, and children; extinguishing the light in the world; and bringing mankind into darkness and despair.       

Rosalia’s Entrée to the 16th Century
Rosalia was born and later raised as a child in a Witches’ coven.
Although Rosalia was born in the 16th century again in human form, 
she was, in reality, a reincarnated evil soul many centuries old.
Her Hell-spawned soul was seared in Hell’s very own oven, 
and like the Gorgon Medusa herself—she was a creature gone wild. 

Rosalia indeed was also an intense and a very precocious child: 
who was imbued with uncanny and unearthly powers,
who was “left-handed” and obviously “sinister,”
who possessed a keen and piercing intellect,
and had scaurous, strong ankles and a schnauzkrampf-like mouth,
and was fisslingual like the Devil—with a “forked tongue,” 
who had a horrifying and monstrous Medusa-like appearance
at a glance—stark and menacing, frightening and rapacious, 
with jet black stringy, snake-like hair and black teeth,
with dark probing eyes and exceptional sensory perception,
and a bulbous, bile-ridden black wart . . . 
protruding on the lower left side of her nose close to the tip.

Rosalia and Black Magic were one in the same, and
her craggy appearance and coarse demeanor—black wart and all,
her deceptive powers, and her utter malevolence toward man— 
all constituting a terrifying reflection of pure evil and foreboding, 
and all the while illuminating mankind’s quizzical wonderment 
at the power of die Hexerei.

Rosalia was aptly known and greatly feared as the “Queen of Walpurgis Nacht,” “The Devil’s Concubine,” and “The Queen of Darkness.”

Rosalia delighted in being “The Devil’s Concubine” by name,
for her liaisons with Lucifer made her omnipotent and devoutly unholy.
Her unbridled sense of power and invincibility was this Black Witch’s aim,
for this fed her conviction to do vicious and evil things—to be unholy.

Rosalia’s Power and Relationship to the Devil
It is said that Rosalia’s power of Witchcraft and the Black Arts
derived from her worship to and direct relationship with the Devil himself,
thus making her virtually omnipotent, all-powerful.

As the most favored disciple and mistress of the Dark One
Rosalia acutely honed her pagan skills in the Black Arts 
to the highest rapture while using her Gorgon-grimaced face
to strike fear in all who resisted her using a withering and wicked 
mesmerizing gaze with which she paralyzed her victims with unending
torment, agony, and fear.

On occasion she would extract the putrid bile liquid from her Black Wart
and used it to poison and corrupt the life essence of her victims—if they resisted.

The utter revulsion and palpable fear felt by Rosalia’s victims
was practically indescribable given its horrible nature. 

Both her power and her conviction to do vicious evil things 
appeared to be wrapped in a cloak of seeming invincibility.

Lucifer did exceedingly well in his choice of Rosalia as his most favored disciple and mistress—for she savored his ferocious favor and unleashed without a conscience a torrent of evil doings and unholy machinations on those unlucky enough to cross her path.  

To know Rosalia was to realize a gorgonesque damnation forever 
while she pursued the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.
In time Rosalia was granted the power over all hell-spawned demons forever to support and consummate her unholy activities in the name of Lucifer.

End of Part One
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Eight

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Eight

On the next morn’ at dawn the sentence of hanging until dead was carried out on Rosalia. Her body hanged from the gallows’ rope for three days and then was consumed, as pronounced, in the hottest of fires until only fine burnt ashes remained. 

Conclusion
One interesting thing occurred though at the conclusion to all of this:  no one seems to know whatever happened to those “fine burnt ashes” of Rosalia. It is rumored that even in the Harz today in this 21st century that no one knows where her ashes ultimately ended up at. Were they buried in an urn?  Disposed of in a river?  Or did one of her old disciples who escaped Archangel Gabriel’s retribution manage to scoop them up for some future Black Mass resurrection ceremony?  The rumors surrounding this anomaly still abound today and have never fully been explained. Time will tell.

Rosalia’s final curse on the church court and all who were in attendance at that time, is still in force today. Who knows if this is really the case?  It is said, however, that the power and spells and curses of old Witchcraft never truly die, and that they will be with mankind as part of the continuing struggle between Good and Evil until the end of time.

Rosalia—the Evil Black Witch of the Harz, may indeed be back one day in a more modern form to wreak her festering revenge on those present day relatives of those early familial forbearers who condemned her to death in the 16th century. The Devil may have sacrificed his most loyal witch and favorite mistress in the struggle with Archangel Gabriel in the 16th century in order to plan an even greater cataclysmic clash with the Lord God in a later century. Given the perpetually evil nature of Rosalia’s lost soul and her strict condemnation of God, she may well be reincarnated one day again to serve her Master’s bidding. She would want that to happen. Perhaps it already has. 

And so, if one day you should find yourself and your loved ones on a visit to the Harz, and you’re walking along very contently and comfortably and are basking in the sunshine of the beautiful and majestic deep forested area in and around the Brocken summit—Beware!!!—if you should suddenly see an immediate darkening of the clouds in the sky while also feverishly feeling and sensing the bone cold chill of a very frigid breeze and perhaps begin hearing and feeling the sonorous swooshing vibration of Rosalia’s broom as she flies very fast on it through the air close by—and then, you all of a sudden begin hearing that sneering, snickering, taunting, terrifying, and tormenting sound of Rosalia and her craggy and frightening old evil voice— IF THIS BE SO!!!—it may be too late for you and your loved ones. 

This is THE END of the epic poetic tale of Rosalia—the Evil Black Witch of the Harz.  Or is it???

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Seven

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Seven

The Final Days:  Rosalia’s Death and Destruction
In the wake of such evil, debauchery and depravity what can be said now in the case of Rosalia?

Now in her mortal form the old black witch no longer had the unspeakable power of hell-spawned evil at her instant command. In spite of the victory of the power of goodness and light and the attenuation, if not the dissolution of witchcraft in the Harz, the memory of who Rosalia was and what she had done could now begin to be eased somewhat from the minds of local people and the clergy. But the memory of Rosalia and her evil could never be forgotten.  How could it be otherwise?

After three months of confinement in the dungeon at the Burg Worlerede, a fortress castle, very near to Cloister Marten in the Harz, Rosalia was eventually tried and convicted in a special church court convened at this castle to try cases concerning witchcraft and sorcery, which were beyond the normal jurisdiction of civil courts. Monseigneur Wolfgang Augustus Hardenberg of Cloister Marten was the residing church chief judge with four priests in his assistance serving as subordinate church judges.  One civil magistrate judge from the local Harz provincial government participated, in an advisory capacity, with the five church judges in these special judicial proceedings against Rosalia.

Everyone in attendance at the witchcraft trial of Rosalia knew what the outcome would be. With that said, the testimony of her victims on public record dragged on for several weeks, to include the final interrogation and confession of witchcraft and supreme evil doings by Rosalia herself.

In her rebuttal statement to the assembled church tribunal, Rosalia actually gained some of her old fire back as she spoke to the group—in a taunting and derisive manner. Rosalia showed no remorse whatsoever for what she had done and perpetrated upon others. She still renounced the Almighty Lord God and did not ask for his mercy and forgiveness. Her love and passion for being and existence was still with her god, Lucifer, who had forsaken her at last in her hour of need during All Hallows’ Eve and the Black Witches’ Sabbath. 

As easy as it might have been at that moment to pity such a pathetic and revolting creature, Rosalia’s hurtful words in complete defiance of God and her taunting mockery and snickering at the victims of her black deeds were beyond the pale of any shred or strand of human decency.

At the conclusion of Rosalia’s rebuttal statement, Monseigneur Hardenberg announced the verdict and sentence of the special church court:

“Rosalia, Black Witch of the Harz and Purveyor of Lucifer’s Evil on this Earth, you are hereby adjudged by this special court of being guilty of the practice of Witchcraft and Sorcery, and the murder of untold numbers victims over the centuries to this present one, and for the malicious corruption of your victims’ souls as they died in torment and faced the reality and agony of eternal damnation. And your acts even against young children and babies are so unspeakable and abominable that they readily defy any iota of rational understanding in our human society here on Earth. All these actions reflect your absolute depravity and lack of regard for human life, and they defy directly the teachings of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. All of your transgressions have been entered into the final record by this assembled court.”

“As a priest and a man of the cloth, I would normally ask the Almighty Lord God to have pity on you and your soul. But you have no mortal soul since you have been in very long service to Satan himself. Once more, you have committed the ultimate sacrilege by renouncing the Almighty Lord God yourself.”

“Therefore, there can be no plea of mercy or divine forgiveness rendered for you by this court on your behalf.  Your final fate and disposition beyond the reach of this court lies ultimately with your master—Satan.”

“It is therefore the judgment of this court that you Rosalia—Black Witch of the Harz—be taken on the next morn’ at dawn to the gallows specially constructed here at Worlerede and this is where you shall be hanged by the neck until pronounced dead, and then your mortal body shall continue to hang for three days on public display, for all to see, and then your mortal body shall be burned by fire while it is still in its hanging position. Your mortal body shall burn until it disintegrates into nothing but fine burnt ashes.”

“In God’s name, this is so adjudged and it shall be done!”
 
As Monseigneur Hardenberg finished his verdict and sentencing, before Rosalia was to be bound and shackled for her departure from the court, he asked her if she had any final words for the court.

At that very moment the wily old hag became extraordinarily animated, and in a wild-eyed uncontrollable manner, jumped high into the air with an energy she had not possessed in a while and made this very provocative pronouncement to the Monseigneur and all concerned:

“Monseigneur you may have me hanged and burned into nothingness, but I shall once again triumph with Lucifer’s will and power behind me for I lay eternally in his bed and seek not Jehovah’s forgiveness and the rapture of Heaven. My Master will restore me once again and resurrect me to return and execute his evil deeds once again here on Earth. It is I who renounce you and all the people assembled in this court. I renounce what all of you stand for. I curse all of you forever, and I shall be there at the very Gates of Hell awaiting the day when I can greet all of and condemn you to eternal hell fire and damnation on my Master’s behalf. A curse of death and eternal damnation be upon you all, and all of the relatives who follow you for future generations to come!”

End of Part Seven

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Three

Vespers’ Prayer Preparation for Black Mass
In preparation for the ritual Black Mass at midnight, Rosalia recites the following prayer incantation which must be rendered latest at 6:00 pm on the eve of the Black Mass. This is a six-hour process that lasts until midnight when the actual Black Mass ceremony formally commences. The Vespers’ Prayer incantation by Rosalia reads as follows:

We Pray In The Name of Our Father Lucifer, 
Which wert in Heaven:

Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth. 

Rosalia’s Sacrilegious Activities and Mask of Deception
Rosalia was very self-aware of her bewitching and beguiling activities,
and her seasoned ancient command of the instruments of evil and debauchery, whether by plan or at will, to execute her nefast activities against all who were innocent and unsuspecting. Her negative actions left an indelible stain and a wicked scar of evil on the spiritual psyche of all of her victims.   

Rosalia was also vividly aware of the Church’s knowledge of witchcraft and sorcery, as written, codified and passed down by two Catholic inquisitors in the Malleus Maleficarum published in 1486. The power of her profane instruments of witchcraft found many of their original associational relationships with certain sacraments and church procedures, but were later corrupted and brought to the dark side to aid the Devil’s work. What was once good, could become instantly impious, if the witches focused their negative efforts and pagan power on corrupting and harming mankind.   

And so, Rosalia understood and appreciated the power and the knowledge
of the Catholic Church concerning matters of witchcraft and the witches’ devotion to evil.  The Church was not unaware of Rosalia’s evil activities, 
but they were confined presently to a local area and were not of a larger regional nature—at least for the time being.

With this in mind and being so informed of the Church, and with the power and influence of the Dark One, Rosalia continued her ruthless, evil crimes
and her heartless, blasphemous activities during periodic nocturnal visits 
in bucolic villages in the Harz countryside.

It was during these so-called “evening activities” that Rosalia’s dark-side mask, that is, her true witch’s countenance shone through and presented her ghastly Gorgon-grimaced face to her chosen victims—men, women, children—with no quarter given. This was Rosalia’s true self, her “evening mask,” but yet her true self.

Yet while during the day, as part of a masterful chameleon-like deception,
Rosalia would appear to unsuspecting people in her “daytime mask”
as a beautiful and charming blonde-haired, blue-eyed lady of young adult age, with a kind and genial spirit who worked in a local Inn in a village close to the Brocken. This was Rosalia’s perfect cover for plotting and conducting 
her wicked and unholy activities.

Rosalia naturally commanded the insatiable power of the black arts
which allowed her to maintain her “normal appearance” for as long as she chose—and yet, she could summon her real dark appearance on a moment’s notice, but preferred the night when her dark-side powers were at their greatest pitch, whereby she could command whatever hell-spawned demons or earthly elements she needed to help and support her evil intentions and deeds.

With the daily reality of this “perfect deception,” Rosalia, with her coven of disciples, could strike with impunity throughout the numerous villages in the Harz countryside, consummating their evil intentions and horrible deeds 
in the name of God’s fallen angel.

Rosalia’s goal was to deceive, corrupt and destroy the eternal souls of as many men, women, and children as possible, while ensuring the maturation and permanence of her power, and the unholy glorification of her master—Lucifer.

Who could ever imagine that a young beautiful blonde lady who innocently worked in a local village Inn could be one of vilest black spirits in the history of witchcraft?

Could Rosalia and her hell-spawned soulless minions be stopped and brought to justice for their terrible actions and deeds?  

Who would dare challenge Rosalia’s power and the evil she sought to inflict on mankind?

End of Part Three

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Two

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Two

Rosalia’s Instruments of Evil and Debauchery
Rosalia needed certain tools or instruments of evil and debauchery to successfully pursue her nefandous plans of bringing the people of the Harz countryside under the dominion and control of the Devil. The following instruments could be construed as weapons in and of themselves and were integral to Rosalia’s practice of Witchcraft and Sorcery, and were central to her fervent desire of accomplishing this dastardly goal as she actively sought to corrupt and destroy the souls of her victims. Her bright gems of evil and debauchery included:
 
Necromancy  
As Rosalia expanded her power, control, and influence among the people she became involved in Necromancy, that is to say, the art of predicting events by communicating with the dead. She would use her channeling efforts to enter the spirit world, and in an act of true malevolence, would prompt her spirit contacts to conjure evil dreams and have them pervade the consciousness of her unsuspecting victims. She would, at times, summon Lucifer himself in the midst of all of this to directly maximize her channeling efforts.      

Moleosophy and Wartology  
Rosalia had mastery of the arcane art of Moleosophy and Wartology, whereby she could divine the temperament of people and surrounding future events by spiritually sensing and reading the moles and warts on men and women in a stream of consciousness. Beyond this divining and sensing aspect, this power was also amply reflected in the use of her Black Wart and the use of its bile liquid contents to inflict irreparable harm on her victims and engender absolute fear.

Witch’s Broom  
Rosalia had a Witch’s Broom, serving as her primary mode of transportation for traversing the Harz and for frightening and wreaking utter havoc on her unsuspecting victims.

Black Hen’s Blood
Rosalia used a Black Hen’s Blood gruesomely obtained by beating a black hen to death, and then smearing a small portion of the blood on her human victim or the victim’s clothing— in effect, to transfer the agony of the hen’s death to her intended victim. 

Magic Wand
The Magic Wand made of hazel is another invaluable weapon used by Rosalia as an instrument of indomitable evil force and power as personified in its likeness as a phallic symbol.  Rosalia’s mastery of her Magic Wand enabled her to instinctively react in casting black magic spells on her victims and conjuring an aura of evil spirits to plague and ultimately destroy her victims’ families.

Black Potions
Rosalia brewed alchemic poisonous potions to a horrifying hideous effect,
using them to startle, stun and paralyze her victims with unending fear
while unmercifully taunting and tormenting them with equal evil effect,
and using Witchcraft to destroy once innocent souls and harvest fear.
Rosalia employed her alchemic masterpieces to great effect in gaining control of her victims’ will or desire to resist her evil intentions. Rosalia sometimes used her Black Potions to immediately subdue and poison to death victims who had insulted her and driven her anger to an insatiable lust and frenzy.

Witch’s Dagger   
Rosalia’s Athamé was her special coal-black-colored ceremonial dagger, of course, with a double-edged blade, but in her instance totally black to include the actual blade itself, with the sign of the Pentagram firmly engrained into the dagger’s handle. This was Rosalia’s magical dagger, her tool which she used for ritual black mass ceremonies and to direct psychic energy and to even exact both torture and murder—beyond the normal expected use of such a dagger in a witchcraft ceremony.  

Black Cat   
Whereas a vampire has the power to command his or her “Children of the Night,” and to take the form of a wolf or a bat, similarly, Rosalia could transmute her human form and soul appearance into that of a Black Cat, or on occasion, into that of a White Cat to better mask her nefarious activities and evil intentions.

Black Witches’ Sabbath
Given her power and authority from the Dark One (or Satan himself), Rosalia was so anointed to conduct a Black Witches’ Sabbath two times a year:  April 30th on the Great Sabbath of Walpurgis Nacht and October 31st with Halloween (All Hallows’ Eve). These were the events during which Rosalia summoned the “Goat of Mendes” by which Satan would appear in physical form as a goat or a ram. Rosalia used these special witch coven gatherings on Walpurgis Nacht and Halloween as defining events by which she would give over the souls of her trusted disciples to Satan. She would also recommit her blasphemous Faustian eternal allegiance to the Dark One made over centuries before when she existed in other evil reincarnated soul being forms before becoming Rosalia.

Black Mass 
Intoning, in a shrill repetitive manner six times:  Rosalia recited the Satanist Prayer (Our Father, which wert in Heaven . . .) during monthly Black Mass celebrations and the Black Witches’ Sabbath with her Coven. Rosalia used the transformative power of these events to further energize her disciples and to call directly on Satan to inform him of her evil activities and seek his continued influence and support for her acts of terror, torture, and debauchery—all in his name. Tragically, all of Rosalia’s disciples were lost souls and faced eternal damnation because of their continued association with her.  At the end of the Black Mass rituals all of Rosalia’s disciples were left in a state of unfettered “Humicubation,” whereby they lay on the ground in a state of submission and penitence to her for ever having worshipped the Lord God.

End of Part Two

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Four

Rosalia - The Evil Witch of the Harz, Part Four

Rosalia’s Date with Destiny and the Power of Light and Goodness
It is said that the Almighty Lord God works in very mysterious ways . . . 
meaning that even an all-powerful witch like Rosalia had her Achilles’ heel, and could lose her sheen of invincibility in certain instances which date back to the earliest clashes between Good and Evil at the outset of mankind.

With her perfect cover working in a local village Inn near the Brocken, Rosalia could plan, plot and scheme her witchcraft activities at will 
when meeting unsuspecting villagers and outside visitors alike—
giving her near-unlimited control in shaping the very course of events.
Fate would have it, however, that one event would challenge and alter Rosalia’s perfect cover forever . . . 

One day a young girl—named Aurelia, who was barely 15 years old,
visited local village relatives while traveling near the Brocken.
Aurelia, who was quite intelligent and mature for her age was also a 
close relative of the regional church Monseigneur, Wolfgang Augustus Hardenberg, and she was part of a traditional German catholic family. 

Aurelia was a rare child indeed, endowed with “Heavenly Eyes”
from her eternal soul at birth which gave her a unique, unusual gift 
of sensing and seeing the true nature of the men, women, and children
as they came into contact with her . . . without them realizing it. 

Aurelia, with this fantastic gift, was truly one of God’s children,
and the antithesis of Rosalia and the incarnate evil she represented.
Aurelia’s family was fully aware of God’s favor on their daughter
and all of the goodness and light she shared with them in the family.

Aurelia was also quick study; she was endowed with an unusual ability to absorb, understand and remember vast amounts of information and detail.
And while attending religious schools, she demonstrated an exceptional proclivity early on for learning and mastering classical foreign languages. 

Aurelia too was a centuries’ old soul like Rosalia, but whereas Rosalia embraced the Dark Side, and was the very manifestation of evil and debauchery; 
Aurelia embraced the Light and Goodness of the Almighty,
and was one of God’s angelic souls destined to do his bidding in the continuous titanic struggle against Lucifer and his Dark World minions;
she was truly a “Princess of the Light” and a “Precious Child of God.”   

With this in mind . . .
On visiting the local village Inn with relatives one afternoon for lunch,
Aurelia immediately felt the presence of a specter of evil and foreboding.
And this specter was, of course, none other than . . . Rosalia.
Beyond her perceptible sensing and feeling of pure evil,
Aurelia was able to make momentary visual contact with Rosalia,
and with her God-given heavenly vision glanced the true image of Rosalia,
which filled her at once with undeniable dread, fright and revulsion
at the terrible visage cast by Rosalia among her unsuspecting relatives.

Aurelia was in luck since Rosalia felt no reason to suspect her, thus paying no attention to the young girl with her relatives.

Aurelia’s God-given power shielded her from Rosalia’s attention,
at least for now . . .  
From the encounter at the village Inn, Aurelia knew that some of her relatives were already marked by the witch.

After the visit to the Inn, Aurelia immediately informed her unsuspecting parents of the evil incarnate she sensed and discovered at the Inn.

Time was fleeting and quick action would be required to corroborate this event. It was already Monday, and on the upcoming Saturday, which was All Hallows’ Eve on October 31st, Rosalia’s Coven was set to conduct The Black Witches’ Sabbath in celebration of the Devil himself. This evil Sabbath event was done twice a year with the one preceding All Hallows’ Eve occurring on April 30th on the Great Sabbath of Walpurgis Nacht.

The preparation of the Black Witches’ Sabbath would include black rituals and both human and animal sacrifices with the invocation of the Vespers’ Prayer Preparation for Black Mass, followed by a 24-hour period of preparation by the Coven for its next attack on the local villagers.

Riding horseback to the Cloister Marten in the Harz some 20 kilometers away, Aurelia’s father traveled there with two close trusted friends to inform Monseigneur Hardenberg of Aurelia’s unexpected discovery of the infamous and evil Black Witch of the Harz known as Rosalia. 

On hearing of the discovery of Rosalia and her masquerade in human form,
the Monseigneur instinctively knew that immediate action was required, 
and that the very lives of the villagers and their eternal souls were in the greatest of peril.

An immediate meeting with his council of priests at Cloister Marten was in order; there was now a chance that Rosalia and her Coven could be finally 
destroyed forever. This chance event had been a long time coming and the Monseigneur knew that they must not fail.

The Monseigneur also knew that God’s avengers must act smartly . . .
Rosalia was a virulent evil force not to be taken lightly nor underestimated.
Many priests and their parishioners had already succumbed to the Devil 
and his Dark World of eternal damnation, courtesy of Rosalia.

The Monseigneur would need Aurelia’s help in finding Rosalia’s Coven,
and he realized that he and his priests must prepare for the greatest test of their faith, as they contemplated their plan to destroy Rosalia and her spawn of evil.

The Monseigneur understood all too well that to face down Rosalia was almost the same as facing the very Devil himself.

The Monseigneur and his priests must be swift in their vengeance against Rosalia in the name of the Lord, and that a second chance may not be in the offing.

End of Part Four

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Six

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Six

Archangel Gabriel and His Force of Heavenly Angels
Upon seeing the radiant, almost blinding light as it lit up even the darkest corners of the forested area, Monseigneur Hardenberg and his party dropped to their knees and in earnest prayer thanked the Lord God for making his presence known to them.

In the distance, the search party could see a large group of light beings with halos. Aurelia’s sensing proved correct. This was the Archangel Gabriel with his trusted group of angels. Perceptively now, Aurelia could both sense and see the entrance to Rosalia’s cave beyond a thick grouping of trees in a small clearing. Archangel Gabriel was pointing the way to them to the cave.

Once more, Aurelia also knew now that Rosalia, despite her vaunted powers of darkness, was actually clueless to the arrival of the angels in the vicinity of her lair. Under God’s power, Archangel Gabriel was shielding and protecting Monseigneur Hardenberg’s search party from detection by Rosalia and her witches.

As it turned out, the search party was there in reality to help and assist the angels as they could when people who were prisoners of Rosalia were freed from her control. The real battle though that was commencing was at the heavenly level now. Archangel Gabriel with his angelic group descended quickly now into the cave immediately followed by Aurelia and Monseigneur Hardenberg and his group . . . The element of surprise was theirs. 

It was now after 6:00 pm and the final preparation for the Black Mass celebration for the Black Witches’ Sabbath to occur at midnight was underway. The key was for the angels to strike decisively before the appearance of Lucifer at midnight.  If they had to confront Lucifer directly, Archangel Gabriel knew he needed God’s direct intervention.

The full force and radiance of the angelic heavenly light permeated the deepest and darkest reaches of Rosalia’s cavern. The witches and the lost soul minions of Rosalia were totally surprised by the sheer light and power of the angelic force. Those who fought and resisted—and there were many—were immediate destroyed. There was still a small grouping of Rosalia’s witches and vassals remaining that immediately surrendered to the superior force of angels and the supreme will of the Almighty Lord God. The surrendering group pleaded for mercy and begged forgiveness and recanted their allegiance to both Rosalia and Lucifer—and then turned to the Almighty Lord God for their ultimate salvation.  It was indeed a truly remarkable sight to behold.  

In the confusion which ensued following the success of the angelic invasion and the demonic capitulation, Rosalia was nowhere to be found. It looked as though she had literally vanished from the face of the Earth. But this proved to be not the case. During the moment of surprise when the angels attacked her dark forces, Rosalia was caught completely off guard and for a moment froze in fear and indecision.  A real first for her. For the very first time, her ability to summon the forces of evil was not possible for her. Her only way out was to turn herself into a Black Cat, a favored creature of hers.

Rosalia’s deception did not last long.  Aurelia alerted everyone to the evil presence of the Black Cat. She knew at once that the Black Cat was indeed Rosalia. The deception was up.  For once, Rosalia could no longer hide. And it looked like even Lucifer had forsaken his prized favored witch and mistress.  Perhaps this could be his punishment for her failure to effect the ritual of the Black Mass as planned and the important celebration of the Black Witches’ Sabbath.  

In the Lord God’s name, and by all of His Power and His Glory, Archangel Gabriel stripped Rosalia of all her magical and other worldly evil powers, to include her spirit of immortality.  With this done, she was now a very old mortal women who looked both disheveled and haggard, but was still quite hideous to look upon by all concerned. Rosalia was released to Monseigneur Hardenberg and his priests for confinement, trial, and eventual execution. 

End of Part Six

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Five

Rosalia - The Evil Black Witch of the Harz, Part Five

The Monseigneur knew that they must be successful in this venture as the “Lord’s Madmen” or face the very real possibility of eternal damnation, if they should fail. They had no choice but to risk all in this endeavor. To do nothing and to retreat back to the safe confines of the monastery would consign innocent men, women, and children to a fate worse than death itself—they would be in the hands of the Devil forever.  

God’s Reckoning and Vengeance and the Planned Destruction of Rosalia
Arriving at the village below the Brocken by the early hours on Friday morning, October 30th, the Monseigneur and his priests met with Aurelia and her parents in a chamber room near the alter of the local village church under a marble cast visage of Jesus Christ himself.

They had the rest of the day on Friday and a partial day Saturday, October 31st until 6:00 pm to ready themselves for an all-out assault on Rosalia’s Coven in a deep cave located some 100 meters down from the Brocken summit. Being able to actually find Rosalia’s cave in time was a momentous task unto itself—and might even require divine intervention. Rosalia would quite assuredly conceal and mask its entrance to the uttermost.  

The risk of discovery of their planning efforts by Rosalia and her Coven was now greater than ever.

It was now time for Aurelia to invoke her direct prayer to the Lord,
to seek His blessing and His protection for everyone involved in supporting
the Monseigneur’s efforts in discovering the location of Rosalia’s Coven,
and for ensuring the triumph of the power of light and goodness. 

Aurelia kneeling before the church altar began her prayer to the Lord:

To our Almighty and Most Merciful Lord God, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost . . . 
It is with the greatest of humility and respect that we beseech thy support
in confronting and destroying the Black Witch Rosalia and her Hell Spawn
Minions who serve thy fallen angel known as “Lucifer.”

Oh Lord please hear us in this hour of maximum danger, as the very lives and the very souls of many innocent people are at stake in this great  struggle between good and evil which has been with mankind since Adam and Eve walked the face of the Earth.

We are, Oh Lord, very aware of the immense burdens you carry in the Universe and that mankind is only one of your many divine creations.  
Mankind, after all, was created in thine image. An enormous challenge awaits us from the forces of darkness and pure evil here on Earth in the Harz.  In the name of Jesus Christ—your only son, we earnestly pray for your divine intervention and timely guidance as we must soon confront Rosalia and her minions of evil who worship only Lucifer and the world of darkness at his command.

We thank you for listening to our prayer of urgent need Most Merciful Lord God.  Although our group of church followers will soon be walking through the shadow of night and the valley of death itself, we know that Thou Shall Be With Us, and will give us thine power and strength in overcoming and destroying the forces of evil and darkness.  

AMEN . . . AMEN . . . AMEN, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

Aurelia’s Prayer to God is Answered
At the conclusion of Aurelia’s prayer, Monseigneur Hardenberg and his group of priests met with some trusted local villagers who knew the landscape around the Brocken summit very well. Aurelia had asked to be part of the Monseigneur’s group. Although a young girl, she was a very special young girl, and given the circumstances in spite of the risks the group needed all the help it could find. Aurelia’s help was invaluable. 

The key action was to get the search process underway soonest to find an aperture in and around the Brocken that might yield the entrance to Rosalia’s lair. It was already late Friday morning and the search must commence immediately after the Monseigneur and his party had a chance to rest awhile, for by 6:00 pm on Saturday, the powers of darkness would begin gathering and massing an unconscionable strength and fury as the six-hour countdown to the Black Witches’ Sabbath ceremony would be underway.

Next, by Friday afternoon the Monseigneur and his party journeyed to the vicinity of the Brocken summit and began their concerted search for Rosalia’s cave.

Searching well into the night and into the wee hours of the morning on October 31st—to no avail—the mounting frustration and the growing sense of expectation among the group was both palpable and undeniable. By around 5:30 pm, the search turned into a scene of utter desperation. There was very good chance that they might not find the hidden entrance to Rosalia’s lair in time to disrupt the Black Witches’ Sabbath ceremony. Aurelia could sense the closeness of Rosalia, but even she was helpless to precisely pinpoint the location of the cave.

Aurelia knew instinctively that she had to act. Finding Monseigneur Hardenberg she told him that another prayer to the Almighty Lord God might improve their chances of finding the cave in time to act. And almost instantaneous to their brief discussion, a very large bright light suddenly illuminated itself on the immediate horizon in the deep forested area. As dusk was falling, this radiance of this bright heavenly light was at once as telling as it was compelling. Aurelia knew at that instant mirabile visu that her prayer to God had been answered and that divine intervention was truly at hand.    

End of Part Five

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (September 20, 2014)


Details | Narrative | |

The Old Man

Up on a hill there was an old house and in it lived Abigail, a young lady without a spouse. One day her doorbell rang and she went to the door. There stood an old man, his head to the floor. He appeared scared and weak so she let him come in, for if she didn’t it’d be a sure sin. The old man smiled and gave his thanks, and she said, “Not to worry, there’s no need to thank.” Abigail and the elder talked for quite a long time. Sharing story after story, and soon drinking wine. The two became very good friends and laughed, and laughed ‘til night came to end. When the next day dawned, they went for a walk, down at the pond they decided to stop. It was frigid and misty, but they enjoyed the stroll because their friendship was warmer than the wind’s dreadful cold. As they stood in front of the calm, cool pond, Abigail asked, “Where do you come from?” The old man laughed a deep, dark laugh, “I come from the boneyard, the place of last breaths. I am the man, which many name Death.” The creeping old man then pulled out a knife and slashed Abigail’s throat before she could fright. Her life left instantly, her body grew cold, and the elder’s smile sparkled like gold. The pond was hungry and the old man knew that Abigail’s corpse would have to go soon. He tied a brick to both of her feet and tossed her away into the deep. As her body sunk into the watery blue, the elder stood there and felt renewed. Back on the trail the aged man went. Not a worry in mind, no remorse ever meant. He did what had to be done, to the grave his soul belonged. The elder approached another ol’ house. He rang the doorbell and waited, innocent as a mouse.


Details | Narrative | |

it's magic

it's magic!

A prestidigitator I know
graciously agreed to show me
how to make quarters vanish
for small children in costume
on Halloween night.

After insufficient practice 
the night came for me to 
offer the choice, "trick, or treat".

Few came by to engage in the 
uh..."hallowed" American tradition
but that is another trick.

When asked "Do you want the trick, or 
do you want the treat?",
everyone, said "treat!", much to my dismay.

The final costumed charges came up,
a probable four-year-old girl
and her younger brother in tow,
mother at the driveway.

I asked her the question, expecting 
the previous answer in return, but
to my keen expectation, she answered "trick!"

I proceeded to pull out a quarter
and do a slight bit of slight-of-hand, 
somewhat clumsily, but when I opened
my hand to drop the vanished coin
into hers, she looked at her empty
hand for a few perplexed seconds,
then began to giggle uncontrollably
- now that, indeed, is magic to me.

© Goode Guy 2012-11-01

she got the "magic" coin and a big candy bar.


Details | Narrative | |

Friday the 13th


13
riding out the night 
searching for that solar storm
instead, up ahead
columns of wind 
breach the scene
green trees clobber the place 
as bedlam pulls out the white swords
and once again it's on

808 Boom! 
808 Boom!
808 Boom!

moonlight exsanguinated
even though it was full as can be
no sign of Jason Voorhees either
maybe he's graduated from the mask

this place ain't so scary
I said, 
"THIS PLACE AIN"T SO SCARY!"
(stirring up the devils)
only 15 minutes 'till we're in the clear
Saturday 14 is near


©2014 ~JSL PoetTreez Publishing


Details | Narrative | |

On Halloween Night

***

   It was All Saints Eve, Halloween,
   And from my window I watched;
Children dressed in various disguises,
   Trick or treating to each house,
   Where Jack-o-lanterns shined;
          On Halloween Night.

   Inside my house candles flickered,
   The corners filled with shadow;
Upon a table was an ornate Ouija board,
   Waiting for my guest to settle,
   It was time to open the door;
          On Halloween Night.

   With our hands on the planchette,
   We asked the spirits that dwelled;
To show us a sign or perhaps a presence,
   A long silence was thick and eerie,
   Candles blew out and a door creaked;
           On Halloween Night.

   We heard a man's harsh whisper,
   I could feel his breath on my cheek;
As though he was leaning over me,
   All of us were frozen in cold fear,
   As footsteps on wood echoed away;
           On Halloween night.

   It was that very night in my bed,
   That I felt my covers being pulled away;
And I had an odd feeling I was not alone,
   I felt his open mouth hanging over me,
   Then I was screaming and dying;
          On Halloween night.



___________________________
August 31, 2014


Narrative



Entered in the contest On Halloween Night, sponsor Gail Angle Doyle

                          







Details | Narrative | |

My beloved wife

My beloved wife

It was the crows calling that gave the final warning on this mid October morning.
Just as the mist began falling upon the hills in a strange manner that was almost unnerving.
This morn shall be my final calling as my soul begins souring high above the clouds on this mid October morning.
Signalled by the single rose placed upon my coffin.
Not a healthy rose but one that's wilting, It's red petals fading and it's leaves browning.
It was placed upon my coffin by a loan woman who stands morning on this bitter October morning.

She turns towards home and begins walking, towards my old manor house that now stands rotting.
She passes the spot in the garden where she hid the knife the other morning, just before the police came calling.
Alerted by the chamber maid screaming upon discovering by body laying bleeding.
Murder was the diagnosis, probably by a burglar was the prognosis.
The window was broken and my jewellery was stolen.
They didn't bother to ask about the missing kitchen knife, it was all falling into place for my dearly beloved wife.

As she approached she questions what she saw, large boards placed upon the entrance door.
Upon the door a sign held by a single rusty nail, it read this property is now for sale.
Due to deceased occupants an auction will now take place, in gods grace she calls out from behind her veil of lace.
This can't be true, I felt the morning dew seep through into my newly bought shoe, she pauses for breath as she begins to think things through.
Now the truth begins dawning that it was her soul and not her body that left the hill this morning.
We are now two souls exploring, one up and one down on this bitter October morning.


Details | Narrative | |

Born out of the moonlight

Every winters night I'm kept awake it seems, by the fainting ecos of my lovers screams forever filling the emptiness of my dreams.
Awakening within me the beast, with its eternal lust to drink and feast oh how I envy the deceased.
Given life's final pleasure of deaths final slumber, whilst I'm left here alone to wander.
Oh how I cursed and swore, when once more i bit and tore the delicate flesh of that human I adore.
It's burned forever into my memory, that night my lover was taken from me.
As the clouds cleared and moved from sight I bathed in the heavenly glow of the pale moon light, whilst an angel cried hast thou gazed upon such a calming night.
Calming indeed was it whilst in my human form, but as one well knows the calm comes right before the storm.
As the moons rays wrapped around my skin I felt the beast stir from within.
With one sharp pain in my chest so did begin this night of misery, as the transformation from man to beast happened almost instantly.
Detached now was my mind and soul from my body as I lost control like Alice tumbling down the black endless rabbit hole.
I was forced to bare witness to my claw as it tour open the entrance door like the rib cage of dear Eleanor.
Up the stairs I went in a frantic bound, moving swiftly without making a sound.
Opening the bedroom door my lover began to stir, upon the bed I lurched over her.
A small drip of drawl escaped over my teeth, it's touch woke my lover laying underneath, her eyes opened but her fright was brief.
Screaming at the beast who's control of my body was overpowering, as I could do nothing but watch it devouring the woman who's love for me had just began flowering.
And so since that night I lay cowering in my house who's rooms forever continue narrowing.
Empty though the house now lays, alone I am not, as within me the beast still stays.


Details | Narrative | |

What's Fair

Who decides what's fair?
I dunno - but I can sure
Tell you what's 
NOT FAIR:

Putting out costumed morsels
On Halloween night
And having their parents or other large beasts accompany them
Some of the large ones carry mace
The worst ones
Carry wooden stakes
or CROSSES

Tasty-looking tots go from door to door
Trusting in the kindness of strangers
Who will give them candy
And toys

But not ONE will come
Into my parlor
Willingly or not

I've had a few tugs of war
Over several treats
Who tend to scream
And somebody big always
Comes to their rescue

Then they go away
WIth all their TREATS

Whilst I remain here
Alone
And HUNGRY

Now THAT'S not fair!









Details | Narrative | |

Phantom Moon Rider

Phantom Moon Rider

On a cold winter night in southern Alberta
A country is silent alas silver-white,
All is lit by millions of stars high immensely in the sky
Aaron Slater left his ranch to make his way to his brother’s wedding.
Once he was all saddled up made his way through the iced up lake.
As he got further he saw another horse running faster than his gelding
His horse was fast but the other was faster than his
Once he got to his brother’s his brother told him;
Vivian his soon to be bride, went riding her horse and fell down to her death
Alas the rider upon the horse. 
Was the phantom moon rider, rode to her death.

Written: Oct. 29. 2014


Details | Narrative | |

The Nocturnal Delight of Mephistopheles - Part One

One dark, dreary night while working on a poem of hellish, hideous and 
Horrible fright, I became at once quite so fatigued and could barely keep 
My eyelids open anymore, and then suddenly darkness came masking my 
Psyche in a Most eerie dark night, only to find when awakening a sinister,
Dark presence lurking at my chamber door. 

I thought I was dreaming with the furtive appearance of this dark visage 
Before me, when suddenly he began to speak slowly, to mesmerize me 
Whole with his fiery eyes. As this dark visage spoke to me, I sensed an awful 
Aura of macabre right before me, but my senses were paralyzed not by fear,
But a curiosity of this man with his fiery eyes.

On my inquiry I found to my shock and surprise this man was the evil 
“Mephistopheles,” in spirit and body now whole, who was here to quench
His rapturous desire in fulfilling his “nocturnal delight,” the essence of his 
Lurking presence now in my chamber room. Mephisto was indeed a demon 
Devil who served Lucifer with a most passionate delight.

I couldn’t believe my very ears, evil Mephisto standing before me with his 
Fiery eyes of fright, beckoning me toward a world of death, demons, deception, 
And debauchery. I told him that I knew of his fate with Faust, and he replied, 
With his smiling delight: “Faust was only fiction—Goethe’s imagination, 
And I’m quite real to you and most unholy.”

With Mephisto’s revelation to me, I began to quake, shudder with a most pure 
Fear, for I knew this dream was not a dream, but a nightmare taunting my very 
Soul. Thinking fast, I asked: “But why am I here in your presence tonight?” 
Mephisto replied, “This is the night of my nocturnal delight, for I’ve come for
Your soul.”

With this, I asked pray tell, “Why me, Sir?” “I’m only a struggling young poet.”
“Why my soul of all things, Sir?” “I’m still learning my craft and mastering my 
Works. To this Mephisto replied, “My Master loves the vim and vigor of your 
Works young poet.” “He admires your passion to learn the Black Arts and to put 
Dark evil ideas in your poetry.”

His direct reply and intention plunged my spirit into a dark whirlwind and vortex
Of the vilest evil. I told Mephisto that I did not consciously summon him on this 
Most dark of night. He replied: “Your concerns matter not to me young poet, for
In time you’ll become most evil.” “And, I’m here now to make you a most 
Wonderful offer, one that you shan’t refuse tonight.”

How did this situation move so fast from whence Mephisto graced his presence 
At my door? My mind now was racing in overdrive and overwrought with images 
Of death, evil, and fear. I had little time left before Mephisto acted to doom my 
Soul making me both a tragic and poor figure. “What do I do?” I pondered as 
These events tortured my inner being leaving me in panic, despair, and utter fear.

END OF PART ONE - THE NOCTURNAL DELIGHT OF MEPHISTOPHELES

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 11, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)


Details | Narrative | |

The Nocturnal Delight of Mephistopheles - Part Two

THE NOCTURNAL DELIGHT OF MEPHISTOPHELES - PART TWO (CONTINUED):

The stage was now set . . . from nowhere, Mephisto handed me a missive in 
Medieval Latin to read. He said, “Young poet, the hour is late, and I know 
You’re a scholar who can read this letter for better.” “And Sign it now you 
Must to decree your fealty and your very soul to my Master, so now take 
Heed!” And with that, my eternal soul was now the prize to be bartered 
To make my life one of evil—for the better?

For a moment, a seeming eternity, I dreamt a thousand dreams, died a 
Thousand deaths, and “NO!” was my clear answer to this unholy charlatan
And prevaricator of the truth, as he stood quite close. “A most unwise
Decision my young friend,” responded Mephisto seething in anger at my
“NO.” And then Mephisto declared: “I will take your soul anyway, and 
Bring your life to its final close.”

That was it, my time was up and I knew I must act decisively to save my 
Soul, if not my life! Dropping quickly to my knees, eyes shut, with a small 
Crucifix in my hand, I replied in kind: “Get thee away from me unclean evil 
Spirit in Jesus Christ’s name I Pray, and save my life Oh Lord God! And 
Deliver my soul from this foul evil tempter and cleanse my mind of his kind!”

With that declaration, trembling and shaking, I continued by chanting the 
Lord’s Prayer, when suddenly I heard a sonorous, searing scream and my eyes
Opened wide to behold: Mephisto engulfed in the fire and flames of unholy 
Damnation resultant from the Lord’s Prayer. This final event ended Mephisto’s
Captivation of my mind and spirit so delightful to behold!

With this final image—I jolted awake quite suddenly, and I was sprawled 
Out on my writing desk, with my ink pen nearby, and the warm glow of the 
Bright morning sun breaking through the window. With this, this young poet 
Felt safe and very much in the Lord’s grace as I peered up from my desk, 
Basking wonderfully in God’s morning sunshine which illuminated my 
Whole room from the window.

For the first time, I paused and I smiled—and I said: “Thank you Oh Lord 
God, Master of the Universe!” “For now I’ve learned a most powerful 
Lesson in the wages of sin and temptation of Thy Fallen Angel.” With 
That I felt saved and destined after some much needed rest, to begin writing
Against that perverse Kingdom of Lucifer and to spirit into print, pure poetry 
In praise of God—the Most Supreme Angel!!

But then I spied one final observation when I glanced at the floor from my 
Desk, a small note lay there. The warmth I felt evaporated—and my nerves 
Twitched, my body contorted as I stood up from my desk. I picked the note 
Up off the floor, with the exquisite blood-red writing on it, just as it had been
Placed there, and read: “You won this time my little poet friend, but next time 
I come, Lucifer, My Great Master will take your holy soul forever and all 
Eternity into hellfire and damnation—My Best Wishes, Mephisto.” 

After reading Mephisto’s note—I stood in a daze, bewildered and speechless,
And most afraid again!!        

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany 
(October 11, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)


Details | Narrative | |

Cirque de Halloween

"In this town, everyone's waiting for the next sunrise."

Gather round children of every age, wouldn't you like to see something strange?
Come with me and you will see.
Let us set the stage, for this is Halloween.

Whispers hum in the wind. (I am the clown with the tear-away face)
HALLOWEEN! HALLOWEEN! the crowd chants.
Master scares and creeps.

This, our circus on Halloween.
Don't be late now, for after the show, everyone's waiting for the next sunrise.
This is Halloween.

"Life's no fun without a good scare" we sing.
 "I am the wind blowing through your hair; I am the hoo? when you call "who's 
there?!"

I am the one hiding under the bed, teeth grown sharp and eyes gone red." my friend 
sings as the rest of the group sings the pumpkin song. 

"La, la, la la la, la. Life's no fun without a good scare! La, la, la la la, la. THIS IS 
HALLOWEEN! THIS IS HALLOWEEN! HALLOWEEN HALLOWEEN.

As the song ends, it is replaced by the eerie tinkling of a music box; slow and scary.

But, hey. That's what we're here for; the scares.


Details | Narrative | |

Please Pass The Entrails

You stand at your front door.  Looking down, you see horror.  You freeze in that spot 
as from under the door, comes the bloody seepage of carnage.

It pools around you.  As you push open the door and walk in, it makes a sickening 
squishing and suction sound.  The gore seeps into your sandals.

You know that you shouldn't, but fear also rules curiosity.  You walk further into the 
room.  Afraid that something is going to attack.

As you step through the room, you here an odd *pop* .  You gaze down at your feet.  
There oozing over your toes, is the remnants of an eye.

Your throat starts to burn, as the bile rises up.  Your eyes lose focus.  You faint and 
slink to the floor.  You lay cuddled in the blood.

Upon your waking, you find yourself soaked in the blood.  It is gelled in your hair.  
When you can finally stand, bits of raw flesh cling to your clothes and cold skin.

There before you are your freshly painted walls.  Covered in...someone.  It is then that 
you notice that you front door is now shut...and locked.

All you can think of, is the plumber that you had called in to fix you leaking kitchen 
faucet.  Oh no!  Is that a pipe wrench?

A noise from behind, has you quickly spinning around.  You see a shadow move.  It 
slinks in to the kitchen.  You give chase.  Stepping on entrails.

You had dreaded this.  You knew it would happen again.  There is no way to stop it.  
There, like the last time,  on the kitchen floor is Diablo, your cat.  Daintily licking it's 
paws.  Looking very satisfied with himself.

You walk towards your little demon of a cat.  It stares back at you with eyes, green as 
jade.  You stand there, not knowing what to say or do.
As Diablo looks and says......

"Next time, order Chinese, O.K."



Ahhhh, I hope I scared you a bit.  This is my Halloween offering for Oct. 5th

Bwwwaaaaahahahaha


Details | Narrative | |

The Diary Of Lord Kellington (18) Finale.....?

I am a pandora's box.

Let loose upon an unsuspecting society.
Once my night life begins,
complications arise.

Let me pen an example.
Keep in mind, it was not my fault.
well, not entirely.

I awoke in my usual good humor.  
I dressed with my usual care.
I gave more than adequate time to
the choice of parties to crash.
I fed Crystal.  Picked up her toys; dead mice and a human ear she had gathered from 
some unsavory alleyway. Kissed her upon her flea ridden cantankerous little head.

Then I stepped outside of my crypt.

Pandemonium ensued!

Young lads running hither and yon.
Screaming!  Bodily functions letting loose.
Not mine, I should add.

You see, it was all quite innocent.
Upon my stepping into the moonlight, one of the young bucks, at that exact same 
time, jumped out from behind the bushes.  Which flank my lair.

He had on the most ghastly costume.
Red cape.  Black tie and tails.  Fake fangs!  
Fake blood dripping from whitened lips.

I may have over reacted....a tad.
My preternatural instincts erupted.
I saw, briefly mind you, a rival in my territory.
I went from the Gentleman of night time adventures, to my full Monstrous glory, in the 
blink of an eye.

I dropped six inches of battle fang.  I bulked up to three times my normal, quite 
muscular, size.
Ruining yet another splendid jacket.  
Oh, what to tell my tailor?

There you have it!
Young men, out and about, on an All Hallow Eve's lark.
Running about as if the Devil himself were after them.

When it was only I.


~Lord Kellington


I hope you have enjoyed our little journey with Lord Kellington.  In what must be just a 
snippet of his long lived life.  
I grew to love his wit, his charm, his devil may care attitude and his kitten..Crystal.
But, the time has come.
I now close the cover on this dusty Tome, to place it, reverently, upon my bookshelf.  
Maybe, on a stormy, wind swept night, I may take it down, to open it once again.
Or perhaps, Lord Kellington, is at this very moment searching for his lost Diaries.  To 
save them from prying eyes, such as ours.  Wanting to kill all who now know his secret.
He could be in your home right now.
Hear that sound?  It wasn't a floor board, nor the house settling.  Nor the wind.
As you are now engrossed with your reading of my warning, he could be standing 
behind you....right now.
Reaching out with hands like claws.  Fangs, ready to rip out your throat...
                    LOOK OUT!!

Happy Halloween   
Bwwwwwaaahahahahahaa


Details | Narrative | |

Incredible Tale

Halloween night 
A few years ago
As dusk fell
It was blowing with snow

Billy Burke a young boy aged eight
Stayed after school until it was late
Helping teacher clear the party debris
When they left school they could hardly see

Teacher wanted to give Billy a ride
But brave little Billy politely declined
I'm taking the short cut thru the woods
And as he set out he drew up his hood

The wind howled and the air cold
As Billy struggled up another knoll
The trees were bare glistening with frost
Then Billy realized he was hopelessly lost

He should have seen his home by now
But all he saw was a broken down plow
Left in a clearing by a farmer years ago
Rusty and useless now covered with snow

Billy trudged on with beginnings of fright
But as he topped a rise a welcoming sight
The old Colby mansion but what was that din
Music and laughter he heard from within

The mansion had been abandoned for years
But not empty now he could tell by his ears
Billy drew closer light spilled on the snow
Thru the open door he stepped out of the cold

A Halloween costume party he saw at a glance
And by a blazing fireplace took up a stance
Carved out pumpkins had candles inside
These lit the room and the hallway besides

Billy saw monsters and a witch on a broom
His eyes opened wide as she flew about the room
How did she do that he wanted to know
But the guests only laughed in the fire's glow

They played games and ate party food
Then Billy hid a yawn he didn't want to be rude
He was bundled in his coat and sent on his way
But Billy protested he wanted to stay

However in a flash he was on the outside
The witch guest acting as guide
She led him back through the trees
Took him up on her broom when he said please

Billy looked down on the houses below
As they flew around town high above the snow
The storm had passed and they saw the moon
He was set down by his home and she flew off in the gloom

Billy went back to the mansion the next day at dawn
Imagine his surprise everything was gone
Dust thickly covered the furniture in the room
But in a cobwebbed corner he found the witch's broom

He remembered the witch goblins and ghosts
And the Count Dracula who acted as host
The dust in the mansion lay undisturbed on the wood
Except by the fireplace where Billy had stood

No one believed the story he told
Of Halloween night being lost in the cold
He stuck by his story they didn't know why
But you and I both know Billy wouldn't lie



Details | Narrative | |

From The Diaries Of Lord Kellington (2)

I wake in a rage!  
A poacher has dared step foot in this, 
my City.  It is just not done.  
The fool.
I will....extract....him tonight.

Are we that many, that we cannot stay at home?
He may be a rogue.  If he is, all the better.
They tend to put up a fight.

I will toy with him.  This rogue.  This interloper.
Give him a small chance.
In the end I will kill him of course.
I will simply behead him.

Not such a hard task.  But it is rather grisly.
Oh well.  Off I go.
Now, just what does one wear to a messy beheading?

~Lord Kellington





This is the second installment from the Diary of Lord Kellington
and my Halloween offering for Oct. 14th


Details | Narrative | |

Don't Eat The Olianders

Pretty poison in the yard. Butterflies
Abound - Horseflies fly into pool. Bees
Buzz! Algae, fish, lady bugs, yard tools.

Grandma's house is pretty. Houdini The
Turtle escapes to visit. Next door, new
Neighbor - Max! Runs with Arthur - Chow!
Eddie and Max run for a ball, Mom throws.

Catching night fireflies, letting them go.
Sparklers burn bright. Yearning to learn,
What a wonderful childhood. Theirs, mine.

Black widow spiders at pond's edge, fish
Larger each year. Beautiful webs hang by
Dream catcher - Chimes! Tree grows over 
Waterfall. Wildflowers in the rock path.

Cactus. Desert beauty blooms. Algae blooms.
Mesquite overhangs driveway - Sharp, Ouch!
Rock bench for writing and reading, taking
In all of God's wonders. Blue skies, Sun
Warms my face as I wish a wish, bidding a
Neighbor hello, goodbye, or Good Luck!

Moved on to Grandma's house by the little
Church. I walked to hear music and words
To live by. Tyler had a coke and asked me
Why my treadmill was dusty. Pictures adorn
Walls and furniture. Books adorn shelves.

With antiques, dolls, bears, knickknacks,
Snacks, candles, flowers. Red juice for
Mykayla, milk for Matthew. Bar B Que adults
Enjoy our getting together to bless meals.

Christmas exchanges, warm fire, pretty tree
And decor, Wyland's piano. Halloween 
Pumpkin carving, costumes and candy!
Thanksgiving we held hands and gave thanks
For an excellent meal and good health all.

Beautiful hutch full of mementos, pictures
Adorn buffet. Casey's on the computer and
Tyler wants another blanket. I'm another 
Grandma Smith and I couldn't ask for more.


Details | Narrative | |

ALONE UPON THIS HALLOWEEN SCENE(a fictional Tale)

Stepping out into the Autumn night of Halloween
It is the Witches and the Warlocks turn to dance
Their air of mystery and mystic is all around
The zombies or the Undead cannot speak
but,their presence seems to be abound
Ghouls of the Men
Vampires within the Ladie's evil grin
It is out here on this Night
When old wives tale frighten us with delight
My footsteps carry me beyond the hill
A cemetery there which omits a deathly thrill
We(meaning a friendly spirit beside me)know the Cackle
Inside many tomb,ready to come out like a babe from its mother's womb
The moon is full and the Old Man paints his smile
Trick or treaters are out,,having fun for a little while
Tonight all Halo as strange yellow mist creeps from behind a boulder narrow
Dancing amidst the moaning dead,darkened shadows surround this timid Head
I feel like Ichabod Crane,strolling,with terror,upon the Midnight Domain
Ghosties
Goblins
Maybe the old Headless Horseman
Perhaps,the wretched creature of a certain Frankenstein
Many of these apparitions could be just a figment or Reality having a smile
The Corridor of the dark as I wander through a deserted Schoolyard park
An evil happened there,just a few moons not  long ago
Halloween Night..1980 when I was ten
A grade schooler was being hazed upon
He was locked in a decrepit old trunk,tucked,not so sweetly away,in the attic of 
this old place..his peers left him for the night

They came back the next morning before the session began
after lifting a set of keys from the sleeping janitor,they went up to the attic to see
The trunk was open,HOW COULD HE HAVE GOTTEN OUT??
tip-toeing near the open trunk and peering down with trepidation..
only to find,a bloody handwritten note,written with EXTREME AGITATION

It said:YOU LOCKED ME AWAY BEFORE YOU DECIDED TO PLAY
BUT..I WILL COME BACK UPON THIS LAND AND MY VENGENCE WILL HAVE 
HIS FINAL SAY!!

The school was beset by this horrible deed,and it was closed forevermore 
because the children confessed and the Pain would never recede
some say..the spirit of the little lad still haunts the old school
Laughter could be heard if many,who dare,decide to explore it and play it cool

Pardon me,my weary Halloween reader..it is TIME for me to head back before
I become no more,by an ominous Night Creeper(or the Ghost of The Attic Child!!)


Details | Narrative | |

Horror Comes To Town

Way back when,
Living with my father Harry,
One Halloween I had an idea spark,
Seemed to me it'd be a lark....

Thus the tale of When Harry's House Held
The Horrific Holloween Hex..from Hell

Early 70's, my favorite time did approach,
For scary Halloween tricks and pranks,
I intended to truely host...

So, I spent some time, with tools and wood,
Made a faux- coffin, looked pretty good!   
Placed a self made dummy inside,
His head a bar-room prop for "Old Grand Dad",
This was gona be fun for me to be had,
Dressed him up, looking better all the time,
Stuck a big knife in him...
Guess it had been a vicious crime,
Ketchup blood stains,
Covered all in clear plastic wrap,
Placed it in the living room,
Just inside our front door,
But I wasn't done, I planned much, much more...

Forgive me, if I've already told this tale,
I can't remember,....oh, what the hale...

Had my girlfriend dress up like Morticia,
Black dress and more,
Put on my ill fitting black suit,
Almost ready for the door...
Powdered our faces with white talc,
Held a candle holder for the day
Put on eerie organ funeral music,
Still got more to say....

Set up two chairs near the "coffin",
My parents became the grieving mourners,
Waited for our victims to arrive,
Knew they'd remember this Halloween,
As long as they were alive....

Didn't take long,
Till the first kids came....
I opened the door slowly,
menacingly....
They would never be the same.....

Each group of children who knocked,
Ran out in great fright....
Oh, my golly, this gona be some night!!
Some dropped their bags of candy...
Boy I was "cleaning up"
The only house around,
Whose candy quantities tripled
by the cup!!

Then some frightened children,
Returned with many a wary parent,
Didn't believe their stories,
Thinking "No Way! They simply daren't!!"

Well, I escaped jail,
really don't know how...
But it left me with this tale...
That I tell often, as now.