The Black Angel
The full moon rises, giving light to the shrouded figures sat motionless deep within the woods
The Circle begins to stir
Strange chants in the dead of night give way as the Black Angel rises from her sacred grave
The Circle entwined, taking power from her inner being
A virgin is sacrificed
Or would have been
For this is Britain today
Where virgins just don’t grow on trees, woods or no woods
Totally disgusted with the lack of morals in Britain
She ups sticks
Directed by a powerful red light
She heads off to Amsterdam.
Copyright © Paul Bell | Year Posted 2024
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