15 verses of the Undead

The living dead are roaming the streets,
Rotting men that moan at my door.
I am preparing as the scent of decay
Assaults me, vile, putrid, so real.
They should not have left to brave to open;
Impatience has lead them only to their death.
Two strangers, Unknown, Old, Useless,
Dead now, surely, one of them now.

“Better this way, they would only have slowed me,
“back to my preparations, back to my task.”
My axe, it is all I have,
Fitting for the vile work to come.
We're ready now, so few left;
I do not know them, the ones I lead,
All but one that is, so small, so fragile.

But fear grips me as I search,
Where is she? The child?
“She went outside!” someone calls,
The window!
Paralysing fear as I look,
There! On the chair! Covered...
Damn their black putrid souls!

No more time, I must lead.
Blinding hatred burns me,
Consumes me, completes me.
“We leave! Now!” I scream.
A decision, a realisation, another task;
“I will go out there, and they,
“With their unseeing eyes,
“Shall regret the child!”

Time blurs, what did I do?
No time to wonder
As we travel, over yet through the bridge.
Far below, the poor fools,
They stand no chance.
Why do they try?
It doesn't matter,
We are here now.

Sanctuary at last!
I've saved them! Unlike the child,
Is she one of them now?
No, too pure. Comfort at this.
More strangers here, who leads?
There! That man! Like a God.
Something is... wrong.

He is hiding something, from us,
From me! White knuckles
My hand trembles.
“SHOW ME!” rage, suspicion.
“They belong to me!” says the God.
“We must leave now, they come!”
Damn Him! What does He mean?
No time, who cares, almost done.

Moving again, leaving yet again.
“Here!” says the God
“Here is where they come!”
A sigh escapes my chest,
No more, not again.
Waiting, sweating, trembling,
Soon, it all ends soon.

A door opens, the first rushes out,
The same putrid stench,
So vile, so real.
The God moves, ending the first,
And now the God is gone.
Fool, damn brave fool.
My axe, it is all I have,
It is all these strangers have, My axe.

I swing! I try to sever the putrid hand!
Almost through! Swing! Twice! Three times!
The stench! So vile! So real! So close!
Damn your black soul!
It has me now, the grip of death,
A hand in my mouth! Rotting flesh!
So vile, So real! Too close!
The neck! That is my task!

The others are forgotten now,
No longer to lead.
The task has ended now, failed.
The neck! It meets my axe
And like old friends they embrace!
This enemy, too strong, too vile!
Blood on my face, not mine at least.

Again the blood, this creature spits
Vile and putrid filth in my face!
It has won, even as I cleave,
Even as more come;
Even as I end its unlife.
I am changing now, or at least I will in time.
One of them, I will be one of them.

Another one come! Swing!
“Wait!” The rotting corpse pleads,
You are one of us now, or soon you will be!”
“Get out of my head creature!” I scream.
Where are the others? Gone now, never mind.
I'm lost. No? I am home? How?
“Peace! One of us!”
The creature again.

Not alone this time, another as well.
The one who attacked me? It doesn't matter.
Calm is the undead, “Relax, here.”
A smoke, an offering, relax.
Damn them! I smoke.
Calm is the undead, stretched on a chair,
“You smell so foul, so vile do you taste!
“What of beauty? How can you live without it?”

A foolish question, for live they do not.
One last task, a sword, a rapier!
The neck, no good, wrong blade.
Never mind. The heart! No effect.
I laugh now, “I could only try!”
I am one of them now, as I said I would be.
Comfort now, the child is not here.
Lemartes Lemartes
31-35, M
1 Response Aug 17, 2014

Heart felt.

Cheers :) This is a retelling of a nightmare I had. One of the more horrific ones.

Oh okey. But there are some elements which are true to nature. Snd they happens to be constant. "In one of them now, as I said I would be... " so vile, sol real. Right