Not What They Thought

Beneath a cloudy midnight sky,
A deeper sort of dark.
Upon the air a cop’pry scent,
Drifts slowly ‘cross the park.

Through thinning clouds a wat’ry light,
Sifts faintly through the trees.
A shout, a shot, a bestial shape,
Now topples to it’s knees.

Not far away in these same woods,
A second figure lies.
Been clawed and chewed and ripped apart,
By beast of monstrous size.

The hunters gather by their “beast”,
A hole straight through his chest.
And all agree for one like this,
A silver ball is best.

A house nearby a child awoke
She thinks she nearly died.
How else explain all of this blood?
And in the dark she cried.

Soon enough she’ll understand,
She’ll understand quite soon.
A month from now into her room,
Light from a bright full moon.

Cheers, Winston