NaPoWriMo Day #13

 Today's prompt: "Our optional prompt for the day asks you to play with rhyme. Start by creating a “word bank” of ten simple words. They should only have one or two syllables apiece. Five should correspond to each of the five senses (i.e., one word that is a thing you can see, one word that is a type of sound, one word that is a thing you can taste, etc). Three more should be concrete nouns of whatever character you choose (i.e., “bridge,” “sun,” “airplane,” “cat”), and the last two should be verbs. Now, come up with rhymes for each of your ten words. (If you’re having trouble coming up with rhymes, the wonderful Rhymezone is at your service). Use your expanded word-bank, with rhymes, as the seeds for your poem. Your effort doesn’t actually have to rhyme in the sense of having each line end with a rhymed word, but try to use as much soundplay in your poem as possible."

My words were light (fright), scream (dream), blood (flood), skin (grin), bile (trial), crypt (slipped), shade (prayed), foe (blow), quench (stench), and stake (shake). I wasn't able to quite fit in the blood/flood rhyme for the smell, but I got all the rest in. This one was a doozy!

The Hunter

While through the shade I gently slipped

I prayed to find inside the crypt

The foe that I’d long planned to cart

To Hell by blow of stake to heart. 

I’d seen the toll: the victims bled

From twin red holes til they were dead—

A vampire’s work on blood-filled veins.

I cannot shirk vengeance for the slain.

The crypt’s dark stairs consumed the light 

And my lungs’ air grew cold with fright

As down, a bloody stench grew thicker:

The creature’s quench of unholy liquor.

My hand like stone around the stake,

I willed my bones to never shake,

Then stepped into the burial room.

But one small coffin graced the tomb.

My thoughts a whirl, I opened the box:

A little girl, with curled locks

But grin a dripping horror red.

My skin prickled at the Un-Dead.

A child—dear God, a child!

A tragedy as wild

I never could have guessed.

How could I fulfill my quest?

I knew this child was not

A child truly now

But demon in child’s body

And yet, I wondered how

I could slay this demon

When it looked so young.

This bitter trial rose

As bile on my tongue.

But though I shook, I raised the stake,

Above the child’s helpless chest.

It was my solemn hunter’s task

To send this girl’s soul to rest.

I stabbed. From her lips tore a scream

I’d not heard, e’en in darkest dreams.

Her body writhed, and then grew still.

Her face was gentle, cured of ill.

Though her sweet soul now could sleep,

I sank to the grave floor to weep.