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Devilment is Afoot
Leaves of the oak trees congregated in clumps of whispering soldiers
A devilment was afoot; the fey felt this and scurried to the meadow.
Someone was dragging a heavy sack into the darkest shadows.
The night shuddered, recognizing the evilness of the scoundrel.
Perfect place to hide a body, most agreed. Those who were brave to look.
Others hid behind stumps and rocks, hoping the culprit’s thirst was sated.
He has been here before, always leaving flesh that turns to putridness.
Finally whitening and stiffening into a stick-like corpse.
The evil doer did not give the trees or the sack a backward glance.
This was his dumping ground; he felt no reverence for it in the least.
A place to leave the shell of the people he hunted and killed.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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