Grandpa's Halloween Story

We all have favorite times of year, and I am no exception. If I were forced to pick a favorite time, it would be fall. Though not because it sports the finest garb, although it does, But rather for the scary tales my Grandpa would recall. He’d sit, almost surrounded, by a pack of spellbound kids, and turn the lights down low to weave his wild and chilling yarns Of coal black cats, and ravens, that could turn from bird to fiend, Of spirit-infested graveyards, and of owl-infested barns! Of all the tales that Grandpa told us kids when we were young, The ones that he would tell us on October thirty first Were the really scary kind, and now, for your delight, I would like to tell you what I feel was Grandpa’s worst. It started, as so many tales, with, “Once upon a time,” But quickly it regressed to depths of terrifying horror, And though we shook from head to toe in unrelenting fear, We sat there, almost hypnotized, with hearts that begged for more! Now Grandpa seemed to have a knack for telling tales like this In ways that made your heart run wild and all your body shake. And sometimes, with those wilder ones, until I could forget, When I would go to bed at night, I’d lie there, wide awake! Had you claimed, when I was ten, that Grandpa was a vampire, I doubt if I’d have argued, and I’m still not sure he’s not! I think he lived for Halloween, and must have been demented To pride himself on scaring kids and dreaming up this plot. It went like this: The night was cold, the ivory moon was full, The cloudless sky sat waiting while the world was fast asleep, As somewhere deep within the woods, a stealthy figure crept, To make his way to where this type of fiend would always creep. A “standard werewolf”, fangs galore, with fur where skin should be, Was skulking through the trees toward where the tiny village lay. Each time the moon was full he’d head for town to find a meal, He’d hunt for young and juicy kids....they were his favorite prey! At last he reached the village where but few were safe in bed, And like the stealthy fiend he was, he slid from house to house. And once he’d found a darkened one, where nothing seemed astir, He ducked around the backside and, as quiet as a mouse, He peered with cold and hungry eyes beneath a half-drawn shade To learn what tasty morsel might lie sleeping in the room. And there, to his delight, with tiny candle burning low, Lay “werewolf special number one”, about to meet his doom! Yes, there before him lay his meal, and he was really hungry. The child was sleeping, all alone, and just the perfect size! He slid a long and bloodstained claw across the window sill And slowly lifted up the glass that kept him from his prize. But as he raised his stinking, hairy leg to step inside, A wild and vicious snarling, that could easily wake the dead, Caught him by complete surprise, and as he tried retreating, The loosely fitting window fell, and mashed his ugly head. A sleeping, little puppy was awakened by the monster! The howling of the badly wounded fiend would wake the child Who leapt from bed and ran to where the beast could not pursue him. Alas, the werewolf got away, but though he’s running wild, It’s said that when the moon is full, he sneaks in from the forest To hunt for little midnight meals, they say he always will! They also say the wound he took that cold October night Has never healed, and, if you listen close....he’s howling still! PS: I've now got 4 new Audio-CDs - @ 4 1/2 hours each = (62 diversely varied pieces). They’re listed on EBAY - under - “Mark Stellinga Poetry” - or available by simply contacting me at -- mark@writerofbooks.com -- should those of you who enjoy listening to poems as well as reading them - and particularly those of you that travel - care to be so entertained. (We use safe and simple - PayPal) There are a bunch of my pieces on YouTube as well --- Cheers, Mark