The Story Hall
Published in
2 min readAug 19, 2020


Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Her sinful breasts and
Enchanting curves carved
By bloodthirsty demons
Are a bait for your men
You try to instill submission
When you couldn’t,
You instill fear of
Her dark locks nothing
But a witch’s web.
She intercourses with the devil
Produce unearthly offsprings
That you look forward banishing
From your blood barns

The screaming shrieks
When your men force their genitals
Inside of her is a numbing cacophony
For your red-clotted eardrums
Shameless, you call the same high- pitched screams a mating call to
devils and satan
The blood-soaked veil is treacherous
And she’s an adulteress
When her protector’s blood bares
Her torso.

The tree where you hanged her
Lover and hopes
Is haunted by the witch’s curse
That noose became her battle-ax
She’s a bloodthirsty Wiccan,
Where you killed her one — 
But freed a bottled up curse
Of a thousand-year-old prophecy
Hell hath no fury like a scorned woman

The tree trunks you’re so scared of
is the shade for her fateful rebirth
Breaking all the shackles, birthing
from the blood-drenched womb of this
Feminist folk ware
a plague for patriarchy and order
She’s an outlander,
She’s a witch as you
Understand only power, battle
and crimson tainted turf
So fear her if you shall
Lurking shadows in the woods
Is her only way to live out from
your witch-hunting pack that
awaits her in your civilized muds.

Now the place where you all
Wronged her is barren
The souls carved in stones from her molten lava
Your sins are ash from flames of her justice,
Tell them she’s ungodly;
Ascending to the skies on the back of her black goat
Haunting your grounds
Of God-fearing men
Soaring at night with her
Long tresses and anklets
Bareback and shapely bosom
Clenching devil’s tooth
Behind the bloodthirsty seductive smile
In your cursed town…



The Story Hall

Keeping a keen eye on humans. When not writing, you can find me humming to some song, daydreaming, or plowing up research.