As though in a trance, she sauntered through the woods. Clutching the silver pentagram she wore 'round her neck, she smiled contentedly. Black satin shone in the moonlight. A dress she'd hand-sewn with great care, through many hours of toil. But well worth the effort, she hear the Voices say. The Voices... always there in darkness and madness. Sometimes friends, sometimes foes. She was never really sure whether they were her voice duplicated, or someone else's altogether. But constant companions they were... And as one, she and the Voices increased their speed, as the hour of Midnight was close at hand. Singing, chanting like a chorus they made their way to the depths of the forest. Aha! A black cauldron awaited, with ghoulish delicacies slow-cooking over the fire. Mmm! A rattlesnake, a scrumptious toad, an iguana. Gods, how the Voices cherished this Feast!-- which afterwards, she would not recall...Birth sign: Virgo
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View more poems by Amy J. Kline (Insomnia).