A Celebration of Doom

She was an angel, riding in on a black stallion. Upon first glance, she looked like a child, a child on a horse she couldn’t possibly control. People underestimated her. Wondered how it was that a stallion would tolerate this wisp of a girl on his back. Allow her to control him.

The needy reached for her, with a need they didn't understand. She’d toss a coin or two to beggars on the side of the road, gracing them with her horrible smile. They smiled back a grimace of desperation, trailing her, in troves, calling her name. 

She called in the clouds. Monstrous storm clouds so that when she arrived, knocking upon one's door, it was under cover of storms and darkness. Thunder roared and the beggars went to work, eliminating one more abuser of man and beast. 

​She'd walk through mansions, empty. Touching things. Laying a hand on ivory keys. Lamenting notes, a celebration of doom. Mansions, void of the worst kind of evil. The man who thought he owned the world, could cheat death.




By Lisa H. Owens
Created for a Trending Poets Halloween Challenge
October 11, 2021

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