Grim Seasons

By , wilmington, DE
Once upon a time,
In a land far, far away
Lived a poor, young girl.

Her name was Molly
And she had terrible luck.
The worst in the land.

It wasn't just her,
Her family did as well
For generations.

Their land oft flooded,
Many crops withered away
So they just gave up.

No longer farmers,
But they were still harvesters.
Organ Harvesters!

They trapped travelers
That no one around would miss
And dissected them.

Piece by bloody piece,
They ran a black market trade
And profited well.

Life was good for them
And their bad luck had left them.
Or so they had thought.

When misfortune struck
She came for Molly this time
And stuck out her eye.

Maimed and hideous,
No one would marry the girl
So her father thought

And he thought and thought.
When he came to the answer
He cried out in joy.

"I will pimp her out
to anyone who will pay!"
And so the man did.

He dolled her all up
Complete with classy eye patch
And sent her away

To a shady hill
On the wrong side of their town
Each and every day.

And so time went on
And Molly serviced man aft-
er creepier man

But everything changed
On a dark and gloomy day
When The Shadow came.

There was a legend
All children were told in youth
to warn them of this.

The shadow was bad
But he was very charming.
Never a good mix.

So, when he approached,
Molly just smiled like usual,
Thinking him a John.

"Hello there", she purred,
"Would you care for a nice lay?"
He slyly smirked back.

"Maybe late, girl,
But, for now, follow me".
And so Molly did.

Down a dark alley
And out into the thick woods
They continued on.

Finally, he stopped
Before a hollow tree stump
And turned to face her.

"I can help, child."
"I can fix every problem,
If you just say 'yes'".

"Then, yes! Yes!", she cried,
"Fix my bad eye, make me rich,
Save me from this life!"

"Then behold this tree
And its deep caverns within.
There your answers lie".

"But that is nothing,
Nothing but a dying stump
With large bugs inside".

"No, child, it is not.
Look closer and you will see".
So, forward, she stepped,

Her fingers outstretched
And her eyes trained straight ahead
On the gaping mouth.

Slowly, she reached in
And felt around within it.
She could find nothing.

She kept up her search,
Her whole arm within the tree
Pushing farther in.

And then Molly fell,
Tumbling downward quickly
With no end in sight.

Her mind filled with fright
And she screamed out in terror
Into the darkness.

And then she landed
In the warm, comforting grasp
Of a well stoked fire.

And so Molly died
And the bad luck went with her.
As did her eye patch.



THE END.





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