The Tomb Of Moloch
Within the walls the dust lay thick
Layered heavy from centuries past
Inside the solid but crumbling brick
Were many souls who had breathed their last
Jack held a torch to guide his way
Along this dark and dreaded path
He wished he had the light of day
For in his head he heard a mocking laugh
Within its coffin it lay awake
A concrete slab above its head
Inside Jack’s coat he held a stake
That would free it from the living dead…
Slowly Jack unlocked the tomb
Then nervously drew back the gate
Like a voice it gave a scream of doom
And closed behind to seal his fate
Onwards Jack walked below the flickering flame
Which cast dancing shadows upon the ground
From behind he heard his whispered name
Forcing himself he turned around…
There it stood, the evil one
Eyes blood red, skin pearl white
A beast that would blister in the sun
Or burn to ash in the searing light
Jack removed his stake from inside his coat
Tearing a pocket in his haste
Moloch saw his terror and began to gloat
And licked its lips for that blood filled taste
Nervously Jack raised his stake
As across the crypt it began to glide
Jack stood his ground but began to shake
For here was a beast that had never died…
Moloch screamed a bloodcurdling scream
And became a shadow in the dark
Jack swirled around in this nightmare dream
Searching for a place to find his mark
With the stake as his only defence
Into a corner Jack backed away
The darkness now was thick and dense
And he could only hope and pray
Because Jack’s torch had been blown out
And beads of sweat formed upon his face
Jack’s heart was filled with a terrible doubt
That he would never leave this place…
Under the glow of a luminous moon
Which cast black shrouds over pillars of stone
Outside the walls of the crumbling tomb
That hid in the dark the decay of the bone
It was like the dead were holding their breath
Within the graves some six foot under
And as they waited still in death
The gate of the tomb was rent asunder
Then from the dust of centuries old
A black cloaked figure stepped from the gloom
Moloch’s skin was rigid so icy and cold
Its face so pale formed a mask of doom
There grew no hair upon its head
No lashes fluttered above its eyes
Moloch’s jagged teeth were dripping red
Blood taken from Jack near his demise.
In the vaults the rats scuttled by
While the spider’s spun another web
Jack lay in a coma but did not die
Even though from wounds his life did ebb
With heavy breath he dragged in stale air
But the stagnant taste was the last he knew
For Moloch had returned to its lair
As once more the vampires hunger grew…
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