Ron Shiflet

In Arkham town there lived a witch
Whose presence caused tongues to flutter,
'Twas well known by the folks in town
Her stare could sour your butter.

She worshipped not the Christian god
And considered the townsfolk fools,
She did not fear them or their threats
Happy to live by her own rules.

She worshipped gods beyond the stars
And would walk the vast star-spaces,
People cursed her when in town
While she laughed right in their faces.

The parson and his faithful flock
Soon declared, "The witch must burn!"
They went to fetch her into town
But then without her did return.

With frightened faces, deathly pale
Their odd tale was soon related,
It told of things guarding her door
That the Lord had not created.

Dark nightmares from an insane mind
That Mattie had summoned to earth,
Part man, part fish, part something else
Cyclopean and wide of girth.

She warned her persecutors then,
An evil would lie in store,
For any Arkham "gentleman"
Who in future approached her door.

Uttering words, strange and arcane
Her devil's mouth began to foam,
Black clouds boiled above her house,
As the Arkham men ran home.

And from that day old Mattie Stiles
Was no longer seen in the town,
Alone she lived for many years
Until one day her house burned down.

In the ashes her bones were found,
The old witch was finally dead,
But not a soul can pass the spot
Without feeling a sense of dread.


© 1998 Edward P. Berglund
"An Arkham Witch": © 1998 Ron Shiflet. All rights reserved.
Graphic © 1998 Erebus Graphic Design. All rights reserved. Email to: James V. Kracht.

Created: October 5, 1998; Updated: August 9, 2004