Eerie tale ...

for magpie tales 53

I tiptoed towards him

and dared to take out craftily

one molten drop from the crystal jar

and didn’t pay heed to his whining and remonstration.

No one would believe if I tell how the jar took its own revenge.

The jar has claws and vampire teeth

and now that one drop has become a ruthless killer.

It is in my blood and saps my cells and I know I will die soon.

It bathes my days in worry and breaks my nights in ache, breeding grief.

Half silhouette, half myth he nudges his way into my soul, haunting ever since.

Now, I have to pay with blood

for giving into a sinful moment’s temptation;

sleep frozen in my opaque eyes; my soul is a lifeless log;

I kneel down for mercy; pray the dark soiled night for some light

but even the serene moon flashes out a dagger and strikes out mercilessly.

Was it a dream?

It must be.

Yet …