(Written for and first read at Fed Poets October 2023 roleplaying event, held in Nobottle, where the theme was 'Spooky')
The Master
The master now walks his domain,
Gutt’ring torchlight guides his path,
In hope that he may us appease:
His ritual shall not stay my wrath!
This night is called All Hallows Eve,
His household deep in slumber bide,
He thinks to exorcise those ghosts,
Who in the nooks and shadows hide.
In croft and cottage this past year,
Such restless spirits have accrued,
Some fear the journey they must make,
While others on past wrongs do brood.
What keeps these ghosts that haunt here now?
Some petty dispute, minor sin,
Their cause to stay may not be weighed,
Against the slaughter of my kin!
Their power to harm is slight indeed,
To smash a plate, or fright a maid:
He who to me has done such wrong,
I shall give cause to be afraid!
The master now has reached his goal,
As in the graveyard he does stand,
Shrouded now in darkest night,
Brings black bean bread into his hand.
Now as the ritual does require,
He brings it slowly to his lips,
Chews it to a sticky pulp,
From his mouth dark spittle drips.
Across the village something stirs,
A scurrying here, a rustling there,
And close by where the master stands,
Phantom whispers fill the air.
At once he spits the mixture out,
Those spirits now their hunger slake,
Crowd there in a spectral throng,
As they devour that rich soul cake.
A talisman he then does show,
The feeding mass is stilled, before
He loudly issues this command,
‘Spirits! Be Gone! Return no more!’
At once, from where that crowd did feed,
Come plaintiff wails and mournful groans,
Then some fly heavenward above
And some seek shelter ‘neath the stones.
The master finds once more his light,
Leaves the graveyard by the gate,
Back to the manor makes his way,
Where I for his return do wait.
For I am not some common ghost,
To be dismissed by hayseed lore,
I was the master here once,
And master I shall be once more!
This upstart’s kin did seize my lands,
My loved ones, murdered, every one,
Here now, his own blood soundly sleeps,
Yet for his sins they shall atone!
Hear now his step, atop the stair,
He smiles upon his sleeping babes,
Comes to where lies his lady fair.
Let him for his night’s rest prepare:
Now, shall I rise up from my lair!
