There is a beast that lives in the woods.
There are marks on the trees and that is not a place
where you should go,
for that is the territory of The Beast.
It scratches marks on the trees where it lives,
a Beast that you would have the luck to
only cross paths with once.
A Beast that fears no animal.
You know when it is near for you can hear an
ungodly howl pierce the night sky.
You would be a liar of a man if you said
it did not scare you down to your bones.
Bones of men you would be if you were not
scared of a Beast so feared in the night.
They say it casts no shadow
nor leaves any footprints.
But the smell!
The smell you know blows on the wind
without a sound.
A stench much like rotten meat.
And the breath from the mouth of the Beast
is a rotten smell like you were face to face
with its fangs and eyes;
eyes that glow from the moon like a glimmer of light.
Fangs the size of a man’s hands.
The Beast is said to have a bite so strong
it chews through bones.
It eats its prey whole and leaves nothing,
but scratch marks on the trees.
When you see these marks on the trees
you will know then that you are too far into the woods
where you should not tread for there is a Beast
that has left warning marks on the trees.
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