Minimalist Gossip Magazine Cover (49).pdf (13) - Flipbook - Page 43
THE DAMNBITCH
by Jim Green
Up on the moors one calm, moonlit night,
with not a sound from the villagers all tucked up tight,
strode an impure man who was prone to betrayal,
with a heart full of sin and a belly full of ale.
Obadiah is the name by which he went;
a man of looser morals than the houses he’d frequent.
The air all around moved in sinister twitches,
but Obadiah’s mind was rooted in his britches.
Were his judgement not so mired by immoral affairs,
he might have sensed the lingering malice in the air;
so, if you’re brave dear reader, by all means read on,
for this is how the tale of The Damnbitch begun…
Obadiah stopped weary atop a moss-covered mound,
when all of a sudden came a startling sound,
‘Good morrow fine fellow, I say – how do you fare?’
But when he turned around there was no one there.
Yet before Obadiah could sense of it make,
there appeared a crack in the ground that made the Earth shake.
He took to his feet but froze still with fear,
the rumbling and howling told him evil was near.
Then up from the fires of the world beneath,
through the crack in the ground rose a horrible beast.
With hooves and spikes and crab-like claws,
and knife-shaped teeth protruding from its jaws.
It had devilish horns and fire in its eyes,
and a serpent for a phallus betwixt its thighs.
‘Obadiah,’ it growled, ‘you have penance to pay!
No more luck, time is up! It is judgement day!'
‘Do not lie to me about the path you chose,
for when sin is committed – The Damnbitch knows!’
Obadiah gulped hard but stood firm to the ground,
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