The Crimson Flabbergast



If you should walk at night when

The Moon wears her charcoal mask

Hide under lamplight or you shall be

Snatched away by the Crimson Flabbergast


A wraith forged of screaming shadows

Its skin stained with past victims’ blood

It silently creeps from all around

Before it drags you through portal of mud


Once it drags you into its lair underneath

It binds you in ropes formed of victims’ hair

Onto its favorite leg-bone spit to spin over

A burning furnace with its flesh-rending pet hare


All hope may seem lost should it snatch you

Away to be chopped with its bronze knife

But should you wield these items three

You shall soon be free to live your life


The first must be the Lodestone

That releases a ray of shining blue

To cast upon its obsidian eyes

To blind it from seeing you


The second must be the Rope

Woven of maidens’ ruby hair

To fool the beast to only see

A slithering trail of blood there


The third must be the Blade

Born of an ancient fallen star

To stab the Flabbergast through the heart

Before digging up to the surface far


Now that you are free of its grasp

Be more prepared and beware

For there are more Flabbergast out there

Waiting to snatch you when you err

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