The Tomb Of Moloch

Within the walls the dust lay thick 

Layered heavy from centuries past

Inside the solid but crumbling brick

Were many souls who had breathed their last

Jack held a torch to guide his way

Along this dark and dreaded path

He wished he had the light of day 

For in his head he heard a mocking laugh

Within its coffin it lay awake

A concrete slab above its head

Inside Jack’s coat he held a stake

That would free it from the living dead…

Slowly Jack unlocked the tomb

Then nervously drew back the gate

Like a voice it gave a scream of doom

And closed behind to seal his fate

Onwards Jack walked below the flickering flame

Which cast dancing shadows upon the ground

From behind he heard his whispered name

Forcing himself he turned around…

There it stood, the evil one

Eyes blood red, skin pearl white

A beast that would blister in the sun

Or burn to ash in the searing light

Jack removed his stake from inside his coat

Tearing a pocket in his haste

Moloch saw his terror and began to gloat

And licked its lips for that blood filled taste 

Nervously Jack raised his stake

As across the crypt it began to glide

Jack stood his ground but began to shake

For here was a beast that had never died…

Moloch screamed a bloodcurdling scream

And became a shadow in the dark

Jack swirled around in this nightmare dream

Searching for a place to find his mark

With the stake as his only defence 

Into a corner Jack backed away

The darkness now was thick and dense

And he could only hope and pray

Because Jack’s torch had been blown out

And beads of sweat formed upon his face

Jack’s heart was filled with a terrible doubt

That he would never leave this place…

Under the glow of a luminous moon

Which cast black shrouds over pillars of stone

Outside the walls of the crumbling tomb

That hid in the dark the decay of the bone

It was like the dead were holding their breath

Within the graves some six foot under

And as they waited still in death

The gate of the tomb was rent asunder 

Then from the dust of centuries old

A black cloaked figure stepped from the gloom

Moloch’s skin was rigid so icy and cold

Its face so pale formed a mask of doom

There grew no hair upon its head

No lashes fluttered above its eyes

Moloch’s jagged teeth were dripping red

Blood taken from Jack near his demise.

In the vaults the rats scuttled by

While the spider’s spun another web

Jack lay in a coma but did not die

Even though from wounds his life did ebb

With heavy breath he dragged in stale air

But the stagnant taste was the last he knew

For Moloch had returned to its lair

As once more the vampires hunger grew…