Sunday, October 26, 2008
Scary Story 6
What do you call a man with one hand flesh and one hand steel? Captain Hook? Lefty? The craw? Cat-scratch fever? Scraper? So many cruel names await. To say them makes one feel witty, clever. Tis a child's game. Remember, remember.
I once had a wife of blond hair and fair complexion.
She loved my hands as I wrote down words.
Phrase-by-phrase and verse-by-verse and chapter-by-chapter,
In longhand I wrote and she would transcribe,
Together we would edit into the wee hours and finish in night's magic and love's embrace.
But my words weren't enough. An editor she found, foul of mouth and black of soul. Bespectacled. Besotted. His soul purveyed to demons for glory and power. He claimed to polish words to glorious heights but then he sold to the lowest of the earth and the basest of masses. And thus she ensured my success. The signings, the readings, the speeches and panels, acclaim as hollow as tinkling brasses. No happy clanging of bells, no joyous mellow bells, no silver jingling of holiday bells. But only rings of lead and stone.
My love gave me a ring, a gold and beryl ring,
She bought it from a hag, an old repugnant hag,
The Demon Lord, he wanted it back.
Wanted it back come ruin or wrack.
He bit off my hand and flew down to hell.
For I be here and she be there, his sad and mournful paramour.
And so my children be cautious and wary. Beware the unknown door, the stranger who answers. Beware the trick betrayed with candy merry. If one hand be flesh, one hand be steel. Remember my tale of writing lost and love affrightened.
Posted by Evil Editor at 10:10 AM