By J. Lynne Moore
A rising moon sparkles bright;
Over the horizon clear in sight.
Transforms the tranquil forest vale,
Into a shadowy nefarious fairytale.
Yet no fairy or pixie flight,
Can be seen in this silvered light.
A piercing howl cuts the scene,
Soon a hulking hirsute figure is seen.
A human on any other day;
Tonight the moon has its sway.
Calling forth this ghastly beast,
In want of flesh to make a feast.
With sabered teeth and vicious claw,
He hopes, upon your bones to gnaw.
A demon lurks the forest tonight;
The werewolf hunts with great delight.
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