Under the new moon,
A man came rapping
Upon the wooden brothel door.
Dressed quite well,
One could tell
The visitor would have peculiarities.
When he asked for me by name,
I took him to my chambers -
And while I found it odd,
The way his teeth sank into my neck,
What was most strange
Were the symbols left upon my flesh
And his payment to my madame.
With that, I set off with him -
I do not know to where we went -
Only that under the light of the full moon,
Something changed inside of me.
Fire -
Then pain -
Reborn as a beast
Only to live with the blood of helpless villagers
Dripping from my snapping jaws.
© 2022 Bex Pinckney. All Rights Reserved.