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. ☺️

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