Louise, Daughter Of The Hood

I enjoyed co writing with David Profetti. Hopefully, we soon can write another story together.

Bored, decided to walk the woods.
Homeless Louise of the hood,
So she left her blazing fire.
She was now totally wired,
On the outskirst of Bradford, Pennsylvania.

Her mind drifting in the mania,
In the glow, of the red cresent moon above,
Shining, twinkling stars in the skies.
Halloween, her holiday that she loved,
Every soul full of surprises!

A surprise of thorns, these blackberry bushes,
That scratched her indifferently, as she bleeds.
A Helter Skelter house ahead, with a bloody pusher,
And Louise from the hood, still would not take heed.

She walked in through an open door,
Dried blood on the walls and floor.
When she tried to leave, the door slammed shut,
And Louise began to scream.
Echoes as if it all, were in a dream.

A coldness stirred the air nearby,
Then silently swept by,
A shiver down the back of her neck
Again she began to cry.

A blackness from the cold grabbed her.
In it’s icy grip upon her wrists.
Trying to run frozen where she stood.
A statue upon the ancient, bloody wood.

Hanging from the ceiling, from an unseen hook.
Her wrists bleeding, from unseen shackles look
Transparent in the blood red moon,
That spills through a broken window into the room.

This blackness from some dark thaumaturgy,
Taunting, teasing, laughing and squeezing.
Her with a dead grip, an actor of this dramaturgy,
Plays with the little girl inside her mind.
This unclean spirit foul and unkind.

A bone-handled knife, floating in the air.
It’s razor point playing with her hair.
A pin prick against her neck
She felt an unseen peck.

Like a finger, but cold and dead.
It’s ciphers on the wall, filled her with dread.
Written in her own blood, Helter Skelter.
Helter Skelter, upon these walls does welter.


A soft rapping upon the door drums
“Are you in there Louisey “low and raspy comes
Through as Louise surprised cries
“Oh help me, help me or I will surely die!”

The door creaks open, dark and stained with pitch
And in the dark threshold stands a witch
Back lit by the moon her nose pointed and long
And upon the top a wart thereon.

And she spoke saying “Louisey this really blows!”
“My child you are so frightened and it shows!”
“For you are supposed to have fun tonight!”
“All dressed up you be quite a sight!”

The witch cackling said “Can’t you see I’m real?”
She pulled out a wand saying “Tis the real deal!”
Mumbling she conjured up a spell
The dark phantom left screeching from the room

But Louise pondered the witches’ true motives
The spell ran amok like a runaway locomotive
Round and round until it hurt Louise ‘s ears
And again started feeling her own fear

Stealing back upon her like a leopard in the night
The witch looked at her shackles eyes burning bright
And Louise dropped down to the floor
Massaging her wrists bloody, bruised and sore

“Those wrists my child so sore and blue”
“My goblin Brezom Irontwiser looks after you”
This black gargoyle with its yellow eyes and beak of a raven
Looked at Louise his countenance graven in blackness
Graven in something beyond this world.

And there came a snuffling at the door
And to the witch even this sound she abhorred
“I fear it’s Nyar Lathhotep that’s followed me here!
“Louisey my girl have no fear”

The witch pointed her finger toward the door
A bolt of lightning to it did soar
The door disintegrated upon its hinges
And this nameless beast dead and half gone
Lying face down the product of all things wrong

“Now Louisey the night is still young”
Tis Halloween go out and have your fun!”
But Louise had enough fun for one night
And did not relax until her door was locked tight

The moral of this tale be told
Don’t go out of your way looking for gold
Don’t take lightly the shadows of flight
And don’t laugh at things that go bump in the night.


Rewind replay
This time today.

Melanie Palmer-Story lined
Dave Proffitt ---Streamlined
10/26/2014
11:05 AM