She stands so quietly overlooking the bluff,
Darkened shadows appear, and she looks up.
And wishes she hadn't. She eyes the twisting clouds as the fog rolls
in,
For you see destinies nightmare is about to begin.
In the midst shrouded in clouds he appears,
On a coal black steed, he rides, this demon of her fears.
The clouds swirl twisting, turning, his face becomes dense
Black eyes filled with hostile rage his stare so intense.
Long black hair, feathered as a raven’s wings,
Cheekbones, decayed and sunken, beyond compare with anything.
So muscular and strong, tall in height,
Sitting upon his steed in the armor of a black knight.
Grasping the clouds and as one they moved,
The echoing beat of thundering hooves.
She wanted to run, she tried to escape,
Yet she was frozen by the emotional hatred upon his face.
Then the blood. It eased down his face massive streaks of crimson red,
Within an instant she knew that he was dead.
But no he did not fall he continued on,
Slashing and cursing, fighting the battle alone,
And in the distance thunder crashed and shards of glassy lightning
hit the air.
And what came before was nothing to replicate the newly awakened
nightmare.
Currents of wind, gusts ripping the clouds. To shreds.
And merging in between a battle between the undead.
Swords of steel clashing, sparks catching the breeze,
A lusty battle cry and an armored knight falls to his knees.
So many demons, evil that failed to die,
Eons, ages and centuries peaceful souls had passed them by.
She screamed and screamed as terror struck her throughout,
Such ghostly apparitions in the sky lurking about.
A bodiless head rolled over and over again, and again, and again,
Spattering of blood as he tried to capture it with in his hands.
And the pirate. Was it Black beard, or some others ghost?
Wisps of gray smoke flew from his eyes as flames of fire tumbled from
his throat.
A bellow of rage a curse beyond death,
So intense this heat that flew from his breathe.
A jagged scar ran the length of his boned cheek,
A booming voice echoed as another began to speak.
Die ye hellish misfits, death to ye all," No sooner said than a
sailor began to fall
Though he was skeletal in form, he had brass and buttons adorned.
They hung rather limply upon his fleshless arms, it's a wonder they
held as they did,
But just as she thought death had took him he floated backwards and
behind a cloud he hid.
A mournful moan a dead soul crying out in pain,
Throughout the sky the rattling of bones rang.
Screams and curses the likes she had never heard,
So violently imparted so clear their every word.
So many, so many, a rage of blood throughout the clouds,
Then of a sudden echo of a chant said aloud.
"Go back to hell from whence you came,
It has carried century through century I tire of this game
Go ye and put your souls to peace,
This age- old bloodletting, for eternity's master should cease."
Quite now. Silence. As if they knew he spoke the truth,
She stood awe stricken as he came into her view.
The golden sun appeared, the storm no longer raged,
On a white stallion sat the mightiest of warriors, in his hand a
golden cage.
As he eased the door open two snow-white doves were released,
The symbol of love, the symbol of hope, aye and the symbol of peace.
His transparent figure slowly faded from sight,
And all that remained of her nightmare was the golden rays of light.
The sparkle of the waterfall lulled her to sleep; relieved it was
only a nightmare
He held her in his arms soothing her telling her how much he cared.
Her terror eased through his words of love,
Reality hit it was no nightmare in an oak tree sat two white doves.
© Cynthia Clark