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Info
Tale: It’s all coming back, you understand? I don't like it!
Author:
MrPines
Thanks to: Dr Aers does not match any existing user name and
Rounderhouse
- The tale can only have one survivor; how you define that is up to you.
- The piece must start on Halloween and end during All Saints' Day sunrise.
The forghetti spaghetti has had it with Halloween.
Can we ever begin to remember
The thought of what we've been forced to forget?
What had happened before that November?
Our memories now like a silhouette
This world, frozen like a twisted vignette
Alone we have become, mindless and scared
Our brains and their thoughts, forever impaired.
The source of all our pain traced back to it
That terrifying and massive sea beast
Its origin first written in Sanskrit.
The ancient eel once thought to be deceased
Has returned today for a final feast.
The creature's fury felt around the world
As its massive body slowly uncurled.
Little by little and day after day
It excreted that substance from each pore
As we sat ignorant, ourselves astray,
It observed us deep from the ocean floor
While its deadly excretions washed ashore.
And on that fabled eve, the thirty-first
Its forgetfulness spread, leaving us cursed.
It had arrived, we had not suspected
In costume, we stood, out there on the street
We forgot who we were, now affected
The eel's power had spread, far from discrete.
And so we were there, standing in defeat
Not any clue of what we had lost to
All we knew was what we saw in our view
We knew naught of our pasts, but what we wore.
Demons, goblins, and monsters in costume.
Out of fear, into each other, we tore.
No hope of memories we could exhume
Chaos ensuing, a nation of gloom.
We were torn apart by our lack of thought
A deadly costumed Halloween onslaught.
Soon the night came and darkness made it worse
Primal urges taking over our minds
Here we were, alone in the universe
Our population had passed, folks of all kinds
So the great reign had passed, that of mankind's.
Now reduced to mindless and costumed freaks
Though we would be gone in the coming weeks.
As the dust settled, we became silent.
The fear we held for ourselves had died down
And our population, once violent
Felt the waters of doom in which they'd drown,
With the coming emptiness of each town.
As before, the world has taken over,
That eel's excretion and its once-over.
And on November first, when the day broke,
When we tried to remember who we were
The remaining survivors who awoke
Felt our extinction go by in a blur
Shouting our fears, which we did not prefer
All trying to think, not wanting to go,
"No no no no no no no no no no."
