La mala hora

In front of me she did roam 
Slowly but I was not surprised 
Her dress a bridal one
Almost taking her balance 

Chestnut hair flowing in the night 
Windless though it was 
Something not quite right 
Her face too veiled for evening 

Sweet words carried on the wind
A bell clanged dull and dank
Terror now my belly did find
And of a sudden I realised 

There were no feet striking ground 
A floating woman was what I now saw
My eyes drawn to feet turned round 
Toes point to me and blood went cold 

My evening jaunt did wait that night
For she was sucking in the light 
Drinking souls if she could catch 
My door was barred lock and latch.


©Ailsa Cawley 2022 
Written for Folktober hosted by Paul Dragonwolf 

Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️ View all posts by ailsacawley