A Wicked Fey Grins

The iron door,
rusted and old,
is locked tightly.
Behind, lay the void.

A clasp of cold
iron, the lock,
binds the horror,
rightly, in the dark.

Its little friend,
a wicked fey, grins
as his wicked
merriment begins.

Left of the door,
short-framed,
closer to the floor,
the wicked fey’s
wicket
creaks again.


© CGT, 2018.

Talk to me.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: