Inquisition
Stars fade into the mist,
A thick fog that fills the night,
On the earth eerie shadows cast,
Into this night busts a light,
And a sound that sends birds to flight.
Light, white glow strikes the trees,
Followed by a man in tweed, pockets full of shot,
by his light the hunter sees,
His retriever baying for its cot,
Ahead there lies an open spot.
From the opening comes a wail,
A bright green light follows the sound,
Terrified the dog turned tail,
The man stood rooted to the ground,
Unable to make the slightest sound.
From the sickening green hue,
A hand was stretched toward the man,
The hunter's terror swiftly grew,
His mind telling him to run as fast as he can,
Its not too far back to his van.
The green light expands,
Heading toward him rapidly,
Flowing over his hands,
Filling his lungs suffocatingly,
It pulled him to the ground slowly.
His body hit the ground,
Feeling a huge pain in his mind,
He curled like a little mound,
His head turned to his behind,
The green mist he could no longer find.
In its place a figure stood,
The mist still hung a little around it,
A young figure in a hood,
Beautiful yet strange, it seemed its throat was slit,
This ghostly form broke his final wit.
The girl softly spoke his name,
How she knew he did not know,
His terror still remained the same,
More seeds of terror would she sow,
The summer night turned to snow.
Through the snow he saw his father plod,
A tall man in a red cloak,
He had been a powerful sod,
He pulled the young girl past a tall oak,
Tears her white dress did soak.
Ahead a small cave opened,
in the hole a locked oak door,
The son was compelled and slowly followed,
The girl was still crying, her eyes were sore,
As he slipped a key into the door.
As it opened the door creaked,
Inside his father lit a lamp,
Of rotten flesh the chamber reeked,
Together the two descended the ramp,
Shedding light into the cold and damp.
Deep in the cave he chained her to the wall,
The girl's head struck stone,
She was splayed out so she could not fall,
The inquisitor swiftly further darkened the tone,
Using a stick he broke her arm bone.
In his hand a poker glowed red,against her white flesh it
seared,
Her head looked up praying she'd soon be dead,
the flesh beneath the heat blistered,
Her heresy he now insisted.
She emitted a piercing scream,
With his knife he sliced her breast,
On the ground her blood formed a stream,
She looked at him at his behest,
Jovially he told her to be his guest.
Unchaining her he pulled her to the rack,
Slowly the chains pulled her out,
With another he whipped her back,
Through the pain she had to shout,
she had not understood what this was all about.
Her innocence was obvious,
His son tried to turn away,
He carried on oblivious,
Something forced his son to stay,
Like a wall built in his way.
The scene before him was horrible,
His father tortured with such glee,
that his mind was totally unstable,
He broke her bones with a piece of tree,
Just to add to the cruelty.
Collosal pain was all she felt,
As he slowly untied her,
Suddenly at his feet she knelt,
She asked him to have mercy on her,
Even with this empassioned plea his heart did not stir.
His voice still with cruelty laiden,
Spoke a curse as he lead her across the room,
Up toward the iron maiden,
He pushed her into that tomb,
Closing the front with a resounding boom.
An evil flame had always burned in that man's heart,
A terrible dark flare his son could sense,
It had burnt there from the very start,
Being around his father he had always been tense,
Ever since in a rage he was thrown onto a sharp wooden fence.
Her death was now assured,
A horrible slow eradication,
A generation ago she had died,
Yet here he was being shown her extinction,
He knew she was no witch at this junction.
Today she lies in a heretics grave,
outside of blessed ground,
simply a small grassy mound,
The son could no longer hang around.
Th man has to leave that place,
He runs out into a field,
Leaves and branches strike his face,
Under him his legs try to yield,
Yet he has to reach the field.
In his home the lamps twinkle,
He pulls the door out of his way,
In the grate a fire continues to blaze,
A homely log burning away,
Sat in bed he prays for day.
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