THE FOG
PART ONE
Section 10
Suddenly more hordes of people came, fists
upraised.
With venom in their eyes, they looked half
crazed.
I hid in the shadows looking for the curly
haired boy,
Could only see the horde heading
towards the girl coy.
Forward surged they, in a violent human stream.
Up above circled vultures, as angrily they
did scream.
Beaks agape, talons extended, would they rip
off her face,
Gouge out her eyeballs, leaving absolutely no
trace?
There was a flurry of activity, with curses interspersed.
Some huddled in corners and in whispers
conversed.
Overhead circled the rapacious vulture.
In absolute rapture, eerily
waited the sepulchre.
The people appeared bent on playing a gory game.
They dragged her away, frothing, fuming, eyes
aflame.
The boy raced after them, shouting her name.
In his heart, hope was only a half
flickering flame.
"She has to be taken back home,” they screamed.
Such a spine chilling dream he had never
dreamed.
The weeping willows wept, and the poplars
swayed.
Sad looking clouds aimlessly, here and there
strayed.
Fog (island) -- Mark Dixon
Fog (island) -- Mark Dixon
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