Double, double
Toil and trouble,
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Cold is the night upon our backs,
Dangerous the creature,
That leaves no tracks.

Nightmares standing at the bedroom door,
Sneaking in and taking more
Crazed and maddening to the core.

It comes, it comes,
It perches near,
To scrutinize with eyes that sear.

It wants, it wants,
But can it have,
What it desire comes from beyond the black.

Demanding of us things to come,
Such is in motion,
Not yours to have.

Your throat!
It starts to bleed!

Your eyes!
They melt!

My skin!
It peels!

Hell most foul has thrown up,
This thing, this thing,
This creature turning fate about.

It casts no shadow,
Leaves no trace, drags like a knife
Through fates designs.

I hear it, I hear it,
The silence so deafening
Be gone, be gone, you horrid hell thing.

He hangs upturned from a dead trees branch,
Watching the witches locked in trance,
Its him they speak of, him they fear.

Lightning crack and all goes dark,
The night dead black,
Not one stars spark.

The moon retires,
Hides its face,
Afraid of horrors time could not erase.

The fire beneath the cauldron frozen,
As time stood still,
The crones’ faces locked in agony.

Lightning flash, he sits with them,
Watches them, whispers to them,
Senses their fear, their horror at his words.

Tell me crone, from whence he comes,
The rider, breaker of the storm,
Speak puppet, speak for the crone.

The first crone raised her head,
Eyes reforming in her skull,
He comes now, from the halted storm.

The second crone’s head rolled forward,
Does your power match his might?
Or are you merely afraid to fight?

The third crone’s skin slid back in place,
Horrid pain across her face,
A tree bears fruit, with destructive grace.

His eyes locked with ferocious design,
Lightning flash, his face in hers,
A hairs breadth apart.

His head tilting, smelling the scent,
Inhaling the tendrils of her souls contempt,
Speak false to me and you won’t live.

A wicked grin crossed her face,
Tension crackling,
From his rising rage.

Find the tree, burn it down,
Destroy the fruits of its hallowed ground,
Do all that, survive the storm.

Lighting crack and he was gone,
The crones remained, their fire dying,
Tormenting whispers, yet now alone.
Double, double,
Toil and trouble,
The fire burns,
The cauldron bubbles,
Dangers doubled,
Though not for us,
The nightmare for the nightmares thus,
The rider is coming,
The moons near full,
The wildfire,
He has come of age,
Now is his time to fight
Or die.