The Monsters
The blood.
The terror.
The horrified screams.
The stench of the bodies burning in the street.
The people, running around in circles,
Confused, frightened.
Some are fighting, though most hide,
Too afraid of the horror taking over the town.
Many pray, as they never have before.
Pray for the horror to end, the monsters to vanish.
But their wish goes unfulfilled.
The monsters are closing in on them now.
Rotten skin hanging from their bodies,
Blood dripping from their lips.
The heat is getting unbearable, the flames only accenting the scent of rotting and burning flesh.
The monsters are winning, the body-count increasing.
The reamaining people losing any hope they might have had.
Snap! Crunch! Another is dead.
The sound of someone retching can be heard.
Then suddenly, the monsters retreat...
Ah, it’s dawn.
The sun slowly rises, as the monsters look for cover,
Leaving only one survivor, a little girl.
“Lucky, she is,” some might say,
But all she can do is wish she was dead.  
Ingibjörg Erla
1990 - ...


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Untitled