In the Shadow of the Moon
Swathes of bipedal creatures entered the dry clearing
And the trodden grass conceded and laid flat.
Chairs were unfolded and swigs were taken from brown bottles.
Bottle caps tumbled to the reedy floor with anticlimactic impacts.
The usually empty park already bore traces of the mystical energy
Luring victims to the quaint land of roaming trails;
Crescent rays of sunlight filtered through the trees and projected on the winding paths below.
The crescents grew sharper, and their wicked prominence ever more noticeable;
An anxious atmosphere beset the park as the horizon grew dim.
Darkness peered over the hills, regarding the boisterous humans with hunger.
Swiftly, the rolling fog of an antediluvian terror descended down the hills, converging on its prey.
Gazing up into the murky sky, the people beheld a radiant sclera
encircling the trans-dimensional pupil of a Lovecraftian god.
This being could not possibly have been washed out with the flood;
It exists in a plane too high even for this earth’s most colossal waves.
The angry eye cast its attention on the infinitesimal creatures below,
and they were possessed — infected with hysteria.
Fully encompassed by the eldritch horror, they howled like savage dogs
Some took to violence, and bottles shattered over shrieking heads.
Others partook in intimate embraces;
Those who retained some shred of human dignity fled to the tall grass
To make love before their mind and soul were forever lost.
Yet, hysteria was smote from the big book of disease,
As it was not a disease of the mind but one of culture and control.
History would find itself repeated this day;
as quickly as this outlandish entity arrived, He departed
with His shadow one step ahead of Him,
And the brilliant rays of the sun exorcised the humans,
For they no longer stood in the shadow of the moon.