Lycanthropy Screams

Intuition groped her spine

this woods and wonder were secrets

meant to stay hidden,

how she fought with wisdom

against the tempest snarls of superstition.

 

The moon was an orb,

a simple night pearl

it had no power nor magic,

her reason stained cerebral gown

would not fear the beasts of fancy.

 

Forest and paths

were nature’s gates to earthen treasure

not the gateways to terror.

 

From her virtuous virgin perch

she descended that trail,

proud and confident

nothing would deny her

that sweet taste of victory’s epiphany.

 

Under the night’s canopy

along that journey she roamed alone,

in a moment of union

between myth and reality

was she confronted

with the hidden identity

of her favorite mentor,

now his frantic warnings

drilled her head with fear,

but it was too late

to prevent the cruel pain

of lycanthropy screams.