The Hoods in the Woods

Travelers are wise to be weary of the woods.
Word is they’re haunted,
Or plagued with hoods.
Stories are told of rainbow haired ghosts,
And red nosed spectres
Drifting from pillar to post.
Paint stained faces:
Unnerve some, terrify most.

With balloon animal familiars,
They take the unaware.
Rubber chicken weapons stun the unprepared.
Victims of the woods
Die with grins,
Yet their eyes tell tales of terrible sin.
Convulsing with laughter
And baffled by tricks,
The baggy clothed fiends will have them transfixed,
Before ushering them swiftly
Toward the river Styx.

Run from the clowns bearing six, six, six.


Daniel Chambers