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Returning For Her

Hell Spawns A Hero: A Mythic Romance

By Jason Ray Morton Published 5 years ago 3 min read

No, don't turn there.

She walks through that steam-filled and dank alleyway,

disappearing briefly as I follow the smell of her hair.

Mixtures of lilac and honeydew with a fresh morning flair,

I'll never understand why she would walk down there.

-

No chance, not a right circumstance, could I leave her to her own.

Down that alley, late at night, they're drawn to the innocent,

they're drawn to the marks, like pack dogs and she's the bone.

Theirs is a scent that differs from hers, hungry and wild,

a scent I've found repugnant, since just a small child.

-

I rush, rush to find her, mixed with the odors of the night.

Her heels clicking against concrete, I hear them as she walks out of sight.

The crowd is upon her, soon they'll make their moves,

death, like the horsemen, listening to the pounding of their hooves.

She shouldn't have been there.

-

I race down the alley, struggling to remain faceless through the crowd.

No screaming, no struggles, her silence is so loud.

Her scent is intoxicating, her beauty amazes.

I race faster to get to her before she sees those evil faces.

Will I be fast enough?

-

I see her through the crowd, walking in the distance.

She's tired, her life, so many already expired.

She's a soldier, a fighter, someone of great tenacity.

Even the strongest, the bravest, wore down in TinCity.

There they are, four of them, circling, getting ready to take you.

-

Stalking her from afar, the terrible ones have come.

On this night, for this girl, if it's death they want, they'll get some.

I pull back the slacker, the kid coming up slow.

With a snap and a shudder, to the side of the alley, he'll go.

She noticed them, she's nervous. Don't run.

-

That next one, I knew her, many a lifetime ago.

I was sorry, I made her this way, and how sorry she'd never know.

Like the pack moving in, I know the hunt well.

I grab her, and bleed her, sending her straight back to hell.

Don't look back, keep walking.

-

The final two notice me, the stop in surprise.

I stand firmly, resolutely, seeing fear grow in their eyes.

"I killed you," one said, "Why aren't you dead?"

With a shrug of my shoulders, I take them, before they feel the dread.

She sees me.

-

We never got the chance to have that last dance.

Nothing would stop me from protecting her,

not even hells' trance.

I'd clawed my way home, to see all that she suffered.

Could we be what we were was something I wondered?

-

Not tonight,

there'd been such a fright.

Time, it would take before her fear diminished at my sight.

With a wink of my eye, she cast me a smile.

I would never be too far from her, not nary a mile.

-

Into the night I disappear with haste,

the cops are coming soon.

There would be too many questions, that look on her face.

For her, I'll explain it when it's time, and I'll see her soon.

Til' then, I realize, what I knew in life was true.

This world needs a hero, I know what to do.

-

To those that would do evil or harm

I sound for you this alarm.

The war has not started

it's already won.

I'll be here when the devil looks for me

I am your new dawn.





surreal poetry

About the Creator

Jason Ray Morton

Writing has become more important as I live with cancer. It's a therapy, it's an escape, and it's a way to do something lasting that hopefully leaves an impression.

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