As I walk over the hills
Crossed rivers filled with boulders
Candles lit in windowsils
People stayed at home
But I walked the edge of the knife
Walking though never alone
Half way between death and life
Two heads are better than one they say
And this skull he was no exception
As day after day he guided me on
Night upon night gave me direction
Soon we came to a gully, with moss, and
grain on the ground
I followed a trail that led like a snail
To a small house standing unsound
"The keeper of this Tavern", he said
"He will know where they buried the dead"
And I looked up at the sign hanging aloft
The Magician's rest was flashing on and off
It was too late now, I was stepping over the threshold
Would this be the test of the story the skull had told?
I decided in a flash, to conceal my bony stash
And tucked him under my arm in a headhold
What have you got there, the inn keeper spoke
As I approached the bar, my anticipation broke
Oh just a skull I am carrying, to reunite it with it's body
The whole company turned and faced me, I felt bashful in it's scrutiny
"A body, ye say?", "Aye", said I
"One without a head, have ye heard of it? " My accent I could but try
"Neigh", said the publican, and crestfallen was I
Even my skull companion, looked more ashen in complexion
Until a rosy cheeked jug swiller, piped up from his stupor
"You must be talking of the bodiless head of Spencer Hall!"
"The very same, my good man", and I fixed him with my gaze
The skull, who was disheartened, soon found his mirth raised
"Except", I said, "it be the headless body for which I am a-searchin"
"Yep that be the one," he said, "I can take ye to it," he said, swayin' and lurchin'
I surreptiously placed the Skull on the bar, in order to have consultation
The bar tender, looked a little quizzical from afar, but still served us with the usual salutation
"What do you think?", I spoke under my breath
"I say he looks trustworthy enough, come on drink up or you'll soon catch your death
At that he drained his cup, but it didn't go as smoothly as some stuff
Come on I said, tucking him under my arm, I think you've had enough
And this pub has lost its charm
I collared the pretender, waved the bartender
And we left in a dramatic whirl
The pub buzzing behind us, my head in a swirl
At the same time we were followed by a girl
The uncouth one, whom we followed, he led
Moved confidently through the forest
So with torches we sped
The land it seemed was property of an old lord
Who went by the name of Spencer
His family had lived here since the 15th Century
It was said he was a dramatic contender
So spoke our guide, as he wound his way
Through briar thick clumps, deadly nightshades
Until at last we came to a woodland glade
Running along beside were orchids in purple shade
And then it opened to a clearing
Where a mausoleum stood
Strangely ancient hidden in the wood
Cracked, fissured, enambled and marbled
A wood chuck chuckled, a song thrush warbled
And darkness grew and the moon like tempered steel
Shimmered,
A dog in the distance barked, and from a hillside
A house light glimmered
And we had to huddle closer not from the cold
But the natural inclination in a darkening wood
To stir our heart to be bold
The mausolem was lit from outside by candles
But no door was there just a stone slab cracked and man-handled
Behind though it was noticed that a track ran up a hill
The ground there of seemed recently disturbed by footsteps
And evidence was there still
As we ventured round the ancient looming ruin
We could hear the sound of some singing
And smell the scent of something brewin'
Light there was also, but a strange and gloomy hue
As if the earth had opened up and let out purple smoke from a flue
The bravest among us - the skull, knew exactly what to do
We must venture up this winding trail, then he said "after you!"
Knowing then that here must be the end to all our earthly searchin's
I tremolously stepped up to that road where the nightly ghouls were lurkin'
I saw in one glance, after passing many a way crossing branch
That what we had stumbled upon in the Zenith of its carry-on
Was somekind of a witches coven
I will describe the scene. In the foreground was a clearing
To the rear was a deep black cave upon whose walls three shadows were learing
In the middle was where a tree stump smouldered
And all around large smooth rocks bouldered
And these gave amplification to their crooked demonic wailing
A man was there also one of fine dandyish attire
And in the centre a giant Centaur with a wooden spoon stoking the fire
I leapt back upon the sight and hid myself in the undergrowth
But the skull still wished to watch some more and so we crawled closer both
Upon our closer inspection we noticed another body slumped
But horrifyingly it seemed a skeleton instead of a head a pumpkin lump
The witches they were travelling all around the cauldron
That bubbled and that boiled in its fiery witchy oven
Who is the man do you think? I whispered to the skull
He is Lord Spencer the First Earl of this Manor Spencer Hall
But how can that be in flesh and bone, he must be over 300 years old
Three hundred and seventy one all being told
I knew him when he was thirty two
Then what could he want with a skeleton there?
And what of those old hags with the greasy hair?
What has happened is what I have long suspected
That the young Lord wishing never to be rejected
Made vanity his key vice in life, and learnt the occult ways of human sacrifice
To pay the price that the devil asks so he may forever wear youth's mask
Oh my gosh, I exclaimed aghast, and whose skeleton is that there
That watches the task?
That my kind Sir, is yours truly, it is Miklos Kundra's body
reassembled duly
"Yours, but how, how can that be?"
"Because, my boy, my body was invested with a magic quality
A spell I once cast near the fountain of youth
Gave me beauty and long life and there is the proof
He is the one, who rigged my box to break, he is the undoer of my mortal fate
And under him all cruelty made a darker turn
He twisted my magic to a devilish burn
And these witches you see, were once his sisters three
And they must rejuvenate also like he
"And how, I ask tremolously again, will they do that?
They must seize young flesh and boil it in their vat"
"That is disgusting! We must flee right away!"
"But we cannot do that" said skull, "or I will not rest til judgement day
You my dear friend, must help me reclaim,
The body that belongs to me, and restore my good name"
"How said I do you propose we can recapture what was stolen
And now we hold in rapture?"
"I say we need to make a distraction"
We therefore asked the young girl if she would
Mind doing a twirl in front of the witches coven
She soon concurred, and then it occurred that they threw her
Inside of their oven
It burns, it burns she started to cry
And then the witches they started to cackle
"Now is our chance" spoke the skull with a glance
To see now their backs were turned they were easier to tackle
I saw a hauser and picked it up on my run,
And swung with the passion of glory
Knowing not which way to turn, the witches three
Did learn never to turn their backs on an unfinished story
With another fell swoop, I had cut down the loop
That tied fast the oven door, and the sweltering girl
Could return to fresh world, now with a story or more
Turning about I saw the skull had dealt a body blow
To the skeleton- the two were now one, and the ceremony was done
All but for the remortification
No wait said I, "That was not part of the deal
All you wanted was to find eternal rest"
"Well, what can I say I'd prefer to feel real
In a mans body, which I now have to test
This damned fool Spencer here will do
He owes me a few hundred years
Having been the maker of my fate before
Now he can lend me his ears and more!"
Spencer looked mortified at the reanimated corpse
That now stood dancing before him
He buckled at the knees, and then he did freeze
As the skull bore down upon him
"I cannot sanction a further horror show"
I spoke with renewed indignation
This has gone easily far enough now
"And you must return to your own mausoleum"
The Skeleton now bowed, but snatched up my hauser
And pushed me back while I tore my trouser
But a bigger tear was being ripped right there
As he hewed the weapon through Spencer's bone lair
And chopped down the lord with a stroke of his sword
Then fed the pieces to the cauldron
"You blood thirsty Hungarian Magician!", I cried
"Why can't you see you have already died
And enough blood has been spilt already on your account
Your poor wife, your son, these witches and now Spencer on this mount!"
He answered "Every life has its price some are cheap and some like dice
Can only be measured once they are rolled twice
Thus my own I will live again following this human sacrifice"
I could not argue with his logic, it all seemed sound
But the moral reasoning by which he came to it
Did not follow strict Kantian ground
So I asked him "Are you a believer in the categorical virtues?
The Golden Rule or the law of moral curfews
Karma, or justice or the moral law
For what you have now broken my good dignity must abhore
I cannot turn a blind eye to this deed, to know you have done
Wrong since by my hand you were freed
It seems up to me to settle the score"
He cried "That may be so, and it may be thus
That you do what you know and you do what you must
Though you be minded to remember my name
Magician so don't imagine I won't have a trick that still remains"
With that he disappeared in a flash of light
And the cauldron too with him into the dead of night
It was black then and only the centaur and me
Stood staring at one another and I could not believe
That he too had not been stirred into some kind of action
Then I realized he was but a wax work maniquin
And so I then left him melting by the dying fire's embers
And I thought on Miklos Kundra and the things one remembers
No comments:
Post a Comment