In the hallowed hours of midnight dreary

a timid rabbit

 frazzled and weary

through haunted woods he made his flight

seeking refuge from the spectral night

Scott rode down the trail, the sun setting on the horizon like a red-hot furnace. A feeling of unease was settling in his stomach, as if something sinister was lurking in the shadows. He had made the trip before, a single day's ride from Harlow to Bedford, but for reasons unknown the trail continued to stretch on before him. He should have arrived by now, and the day was almost night. Pondering if his horse had an ailment, he came to a stop and dismounted, proceeding to inspect her hooves for any problems.

An owl hooted in a nearby oak, startling him. His horse snorted, putting her hoof down and looking at him with intelligent eyes. Rubbing her mane, Scott quieted her with soothing words and quickly remounted, the darkness was creeping upon them faster now. Bedford was close, it had to be, considering he had just passed the familiar sign advertising the Harpsichord Inn. Clicking his tongue impatiently and slapping her backside, Scott trotted along at a faster pace.

A tale of woe and terror told

of fiendish hound

 with eyes like coal

 curled upon its sable maw

with bated breath

 the rabbit saw

Worry took root as he came upon another sign. Not the usual signage that declared Bedford’s town borders, but another of The Harpsichord Inn, same colors and shape. He noticed the chipped corner the sign boasted, where he himself had accidentally clipped it with his employer's carriage many months ago. He stopped his horse again and turned around, peering through the darkening landscape, breathing rapidly. Something was not right. He felt as though he were being hunted. Goosebumps formed along his exposed arms, exacerbated by the chilly autumn air.

“You Smith boys better not be foolin’ round! I need to get this medicine back to Mrs. May!” Scott yelled.

Being met with silence only unnerved him all the more. He was running his horse too fast for the village pranksters to be responsible. That and the late hour pointed to something more sinister at play, but nevertheless, he had to keep his nerve and wits about him. He continued, placing a large leaf of tobacco in his cheek to calm himself as he rode on. Surely, it was something that could easily be explained. He was just getting spooked with it being All Hallows’ Eve.

Stealth and fear played equal measure

as rabbit tried to seek his treasure

the haven’s warmth and the solace deep

within a verdant burrow's keep

But something was wrong as he continued his journey. Very, very wrong. Somehow he was riding in circles, despite the road into town being a straight shot down the barrel. He should have made it back into town by now. His horse was spooked by something and if it was one thing he learned in all of his years as a rider: if your horse starts acting worried, you’re in trouble. In unspoken agreement, the horse began trotting faster. The world slid by, both rider and steed galloping and panicking in increasing pace. True terror creeping into Scott’s veins, spreading fast like poison. Though the full moon shone brightly in the night sky, it offered very little light under the canopies that bordered the road. And as he rode on, the trees seemed to close in on him.

His heart threatened to burst from his chest, pounding a frantic rhythm that drowned all other sounds save for the thunderous beat of hooves against the unforgiving ground. Out of the darkness, an unnerving howl sliced through the air. Whipping around in his saddle, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the monstrosity behind him – a grotesque, dark figure that defied logic and reason. It blurred the line between human and nightmare, its horrifying visage devoid of any emotion as it skulked into the shadow of the trees. The creature's eyes seared into his soul like molten steel before vanishing into the darkness and leaving him with a primal terror that tore through his being. A blood-curdling scream ripped from his throat as his horse sprinted at a death-defying speed, desperate to escape the waking nightmare.

The hound pursued

 forever near

bringing doom

smelling fear

his vicious gaze on rabbit fell

condemning prey to endless hell

The road ahead extended endlessly; each time he thought he neared the safety of Bedford, it cruelly shrank away from him. There was an unknown entity hot on his heels – sinister and unseen - which gnawed at him like a predator circling its prey. The road ahead continued, despite his reason insisting it should no longer exist. Bedford should be here, they should be safe, what the hell was pursuing them? Scott fought the urge to vomit as the howling sounded, closer.

As darkness continued to envelop the landscape, a sense of foreboding crept into his very bones. Once familiar surroundings distorted with shadows stretching and morphing into malevolent shapes around every bend. Panic swelled in his throat, the taste of fear both bitter and potent.

Oh darkened skies

 observe this race

which tries and tests 

their mortal pace

not one will find their refuge here

unless they conquer dread and fear

The howling behind him was relentless, like the ticking of some infernal clock winding down to an inevitable fate. The horse's flanks heaved with exhaustion, froth dripping from its muzzle as it strained for each breath. And then, in the midst of their desperate flight, they entered a clearing that defied the darkness around them. As if God himself had plucked them from the road and cast them into the woods. His horse collapsed, sending Scott tumbling forward to the earth.

Scott's breath hitched in his throat. It was as though he had been ripped from the grasp of a suffocating nightmare. For an instant, he questioned if he had actually been unconscious, perhaps due to the impact of his fall. His horse wheezed, its mouth agape and tongue lolling to one side. As Scott picked himself up from the crunching leaves and tangled underbrush, the horrifying presence that had been chasing him momentarily slipped from his mind. He hurriedly cradled his horse's head in his trembling arms, eyes darting over its legs with a silent prayer that no bones were shattered. However, it wasn't long before the ominous dread returned.

His horse drew ragged breaths as its gaze locked onto the shadowy trees skirting the edge of the clearing. Scott could feel icy tendrils of terror wrapping around his heart as the haunting clicking sound echoed from the dense overgrowth once again. Time seemed to stop.

In the depths of dead twilight

the wretched hound came in sight

a fiend so vile in twisted form

the wind was cold

its breath was warm

Fear washed over him as the creature emerged. Its form was utterly alien and grotesque, a monstrous creation of nature's darkest recesses. Its elongated limbs twitched with an unsettling grace, its body covered in mottled, dark hair that shimmered with an otherworldly hue. Eyes cold and unfeeling, glowed with an eerie luminescence that reflected its malevolence. The head of a massive wolf with saliva dripping from its fangs sat atop hulking shoulders.

As the creature advanced, a voice emanated from its twisted, contorted mouth. It was a voice that echoed with a cacophony of inhuman tones, a haunting symphony of anguish and despair. Each spoken word was a discordant melody, tearing at Scott's eardrums. The horse went limp from shock and exhaustion, its head falling forward, perhaps dead from fright.

Into its jaws

the rabbit fell

for nature's law

it could not quell

so close and horrid

its pulsing throat

down the hole

the hare is smote

Scott, instinctively reaching for his gun, attempted to shoot the creature. But fate played a cruel hand as his weapon betrayed him, the trigger jamming at the critical moment. Panic and desperation flooded his senses, fueling his screams as he fought against it. The creature gripped hold with talon-like fingers digging into his flesh. Skin and gristle cleaved in two, bones crushing beneath jagged teeth. Every touch was a vile caress, each movement a reminder of his fate sealed by the hands of abomination. The monstrous head moved forward, finding its mark at Scott’s neck and bringing the show to a close; the proverbial curtains drawing together and casting him into oblivion.

For in these woods

where darkness reigns

fates intertwine 

ghostly chains

rabbit and hound 

one devoured and flayed

together they join

 eternal shade

***

J.B. Shaw lives in Buchanan County, MO and works as a foreman for a manufacturing plant. He is an emerging writer with a love and passion for the horror genre. By combining poetry with prose he is able to capture the unsettling feelings the characters in his story feel. He also experiments with philosophical and satirical horror. While writing is his passion, his outside activities include fishing, spending time with his wife and child, and cooking. 2023 is his debut year, and he has work in Impspired Magazine, Viridian Door, and The Chamber Magazine. Find him on Twitter @JoeBloodsport