The Full Moon, By Lisa Zammit
Air as cold as icicles tears through my skin like the piercing screams of roaming forgotten souls;
The moon drips with the blood of past murderers – so potent I can almost taste the iron,
And darkness engulfs the earth, shuttering out all light
As if a black hole has buried existing life.
My feet seem to be possessed as they take me to a place where devilry and fiends
stench the air – It is the Home of Dracula.
Why take me here, Feet? No mortal can resist the Vulture’s control!
A door! It glows – a yellow firelight in the eerie dark, lapping against
The lustful shadows like the waves of the Dead Sea.
The Door opens wide creakily and grins maliciously at me; the walls pulsate evilly, the ground
shakes and laughs evermore contemptuously.
Oh what terror and malice this castle brings!
Suddenly, all mischief ceases, and an unfathomable chuckle reverberates
Through the Prison – my body is frozen; taken captive.
My Soul is invaded and contaminated with memories of past victims,
Of creepy crawly creatures that slink and slither against the walls of my subconscious.
I see my demise blaze before my crazed eyes, as if visions spark like embers floating to the heavens
to please the gods of old.
Pain scorches through me – has my body been electrocuted by the Vulture’s fiery gaze?
Where are the strings of his mastery? – the strings of my serfdom?.
All muscles in my body relax as my countenance droops – it falls over me like a feathery blanket – a
calm excitement infiltrates my bloodless veins.
“Yes, Master,” a voice rolls out – I find it is my own!
My end is not my own, I am now a resident of Eternity
among those beastly figures who call into the dusk that steal mortals’ virtue and replace it with