The elm, the elm,
The wychy elm,
It was there I saw
The body of Belle.  

Her pale-white skin,
Her milky eyes,
Her stains that told
Of her lively cries.  

Oh Belle, sweet Belle,
I wish you could tell,
Why you lay dead
In the wychy elm.  

And the thunder, it roared,
And the rains, they fell,
“Though, here I will stay”,
I said to myself.  

And there I stayed
Until night replaced day,
And when the night came
All that was heard
Was thunder and rain.

No laughter of children,
No song of the birds,
Only the sound
Of that horrible storm.

The air was cold,
And it chilled me so,
“Farewell, sweet Belle,
Now I must go”.

I said to her,
And then I turned
Around and began
My walk back home.  

How at once I froze,
My legs heavy as stone
As behind me came
A horrid moan.  

And then a wicked laugh,
And the cracking of bones,
And an awful voice that whispered
“…hello…”

My throat knotted up,
My heart beat fast,
And a terrible shiver
Creeped down my back.  

And a thousands thoughts
Ran through my head,
Oh so still I stood
Awash with dread.  

Aware of the horrors
I was sure to find
If around I turned
And looked behind.  

And the thunder, it roared,
And the rains, they fell,
“Now you must run”
I told myself.  

I bent my knees,
And forward I leaned,
To run from this evil
That awaited me.  

But before I could
Even lift my foot
That same awful voice whispered
“...Don’t…leave…”.  

My arm was then grabbed
By a cold, bony hand,
And then again
Came that wicked laugh.  

I should have fled,
I should have left,
But I turned around
So quickly instead.

And there she was
Standing right in front
Of me with eyes
Opened so wide.

And an ear-to-ear grin,
And that pale-white skin
Crawling with critters
Of all different kinds.  

How I filled the air
With my cries and yells,
For standing there was…
…It was…it was…BELLE!

-Ian Konopatzke  

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