Ganga Rok

They say there’s a God called Ganga Rok

And he lurks out there in the trees,

While rumours tell of the sacrifice

Of a woman, down on her knees,

The locals say there’s a Voodoo cult

With an Alligator Head,

An Alligator called Ganga Rok

That walks with the Great Undead.

 

It was just an hour before the dawn

At the closing of the night,

I couldn’t sleep, I’d heard you weep

As your mind had taken fright,

You spoke of shadows, ghostly forms

That you saw outside the shades,

Making their way to who-knows-where

Out there, in the Everglades.

 

The evening air had been intense

And the heat was getting you down,

I’d heard you murmur, ‘Recompense!’

Then faint, and fall to the ground,

I laid you down on the old chaise longue

But your eyes stared up in fear,

‘Whatever you do, don’t let them in,

Don’t let them come in here!’

 

Your dreams were getting much darker since

That Shaman came to town,

He fixed you once with an evil glare

As he whispered, so profound;

‘He told me I should feel honoured,

For the deed that has to be done,

I must be mad, for I felt quite glad

To be picked for the chosen one!’

 

I hushed you then and I set the locks

On the shutters and the doors,

I roamed the house and I went upstairs

To check on the upper floors,

But when I hurried back down to you

Where the candle lit the gloom,

The chaise longue sat there, minus you

In a silent, empty room.

 

I called your name out, ‘Jacqueline!

Don’t leave me, where have you gone?’

The door at the front lay open, with

Your footsteps pressed in the lawn,

I saw a number of ghostly forms

Walk into the Everglades,

And you were there, with your head bowed down,

And your wrists bound up in chains.

 

I ran as fast as I could, but lost you

There in the maze of trees,

As the first dim light of dawn approached

I fell down on my knees,

For there on a rock and peering up

Was a giant Gator’s form,

It leered at me from behind a tree,

Then I blinked, and it was gone.

 

The Sheriff came with the awful news

That I hadn’t wanted to hear,

‘We think it’s your wife, your Jacqueline,

You said she had disappeared.

You wouldn’t want to be seeing her

The Gator took her head,

But everything comes to him who waits,

We shot that monster dead!’

 

The head of Ganga Rok looks down

From above my parlour door,

Its evil eyes are fixed on me

And its grinning, savage jaw,

But shadows flit outside at night

Now that their God is dead,

And Jacqueline speaks most tenderly

From out of the monster’s head.

 

David Lewis Paget

 

Reviews

[Constance Payne]

Although this is quite morbid in its own right it is the words that folk tales are made of from old men sitting around the campfire telling tales to young boys who will in turn as they age tell them to younger boys and one day their sons....Excellent!!!! Had this been written when I was a little girl living in Ft. Myers Florida my father would have told me the story about a man who lived in a shack in the Everglades with a giant alligator head above his parlor door. I would have had nightmares, but I had many of those from stories around the campfire....EXCELLENT WRITE!!!

[Robert James Parfett]

That made me shiver as I was reading! A great tale yet again. Was this one based on a real legend?

[Helena]

Goodness gracious David, what a brilliant write this is. But then again they all are! I'm at a loss to critique this, because you are such a bard and I wouldn't even attempt to.

A lively, scary, delightful gothic write you penned with your golden 'computer' lol.

Thank you my friend......we are so lucky to have you here at W.C.


With love,

Helena :)

[clisa]

I love the rhythm of this - also the very gothic horror feel of it. One note - probably minor - when people speak of multiple gods which this implicitly acknowledges they usually don't capitalize god. Unless you are speaking about the One Monotheistic God. Very nice though, you created a great atmosphere and I loved the ending.