W. Colin Gibson
A Gothic Tale — Part II
Going south, across a marsh
With stagnant waters and air that’s harsh.
Crossing through the middle of the bog
The are hath been immensed in deep fog.
He unsheeves his sword, and starts to think
Until ghastly ghouls arise from this drink.
They charge at him with great rush,
One touch of his blade they turn to mush.
The figures were wearing clothes like a monk.
“These probably be people that hath sunk.”
Feeling lost and of impending doom,
And fearing that this would be his cold tomb,
Out of the fog appears a house,
With a light on the porch.
Creaping and sneaking, silent as a mouse,
To see a ancient figure holding a torch.
“What be this, no flesh but bone,
It looks like he hath been turned to stone.”
Looking on with great awe showeth his mod,
He go’eth in, in search of food.
After a good meal and rest,
He continues on his perilous test.
Finally, at last, he see’st the cave,
The ultimate test which he must brave.
Go’est forth as he might,
To prepare for the final fight.
Devling down deep underground
Red-eys and flames be all around.
“I see’th a figure with robes of crimson red
I guess he be the king of the dead.
From where he stands, “it” seems quite near.
Through the winding cave, he starts to fear.
“What if I don’t win this fight?
Would it be the end? It just might.”
“Let you heart be guide and show the way
To the Devil’s chamber, whom you must slay.”
The lady’s words from afar give him might.
The strength and will to win this fight.
“If thou be devil prepare to end,
Under my mighty sword you shall bend.
The fight commences with such a clash,
The Evil’s sword is first to smash.
Continuing as a loin prey, he fears no sin.
Agains’t the wall, the Evil, he doth pin.
He strike without another thought,
The body falls and starts to rot.
By his feet, the head laughs at will.
His sword plunges for the kill.
A howl be heard throughout the air,
His minions die, and schreech their espair.
Resting for a moment, twas a furious fight.
Sawying unsteadily, he reels in this night.
Upon the cae he bathes in the light,
On second glance, family and friends be in sight
A few paces away, he feels quite ill, his cheeks are red,
And all of all sudden, he just drops dead.
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Biography of W. Colin Gibson
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