An oak branch danced to a serenaded minuet… neither wind nor music could be heard as throbbing hearts were beating like a bass drum. The Cthulhu monster inhales, shadows bend all along the high mossy wall of the great castle. The Keep wipes cascading sweat from his brow; a murder of crows send “meet and greets” as the monster of the mythos looks toward the sky black tea steeps and cream drips slowly from a silver spoon bequeathed upon his year of birth. An Pine Boughs danced to a serenaded minuet… the Cthulhu monster exhales, and darker shadows bend whilst long wailing screams drift and echo repentant as twilight fades and joins this black starry night whence a monster walked. In the light of a flurry of torches, his octopus-like head swung left then right, feelers test the winds, scales on his manatee looking body reflect colors, prominent claws on his hind and fore feet dig in and his long narrow wings fluttering like a fairy. The Ivy danced to a serenaded minuet… those in the castle quake and quiver in repose. The Cthulhu Monster is awake once more.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran, poet, and fabulist who is a three time Pushcart Prize and twice for Best of the Net in 2016-2017. His work has been published world-wide in various publication venues. Ken loves writing, thunderstorms, walking in the woods at night and spending time relaxing. Find him here or on Twitter.