I played and sang
That night in a bar;
A fine place I left
Though I never got too far.
Confronted by three
Born again, but to the Black Way;
Their fingers bore claws
To end my day.
Guitar in hand,
I did fight.
And struck one
With all my might.
A burst of sound;
Strings and wood
Splintered, died,
But didn't do much good
Then claws shred,
Cleave leather and flesh,
Reveal my insides
And imminent death.
A great black wolf
Over me does bound,
And the Hunter arrives, too,
While I am downed.
My foes die
The True Death.
My vision blacks,
Soon, my last breath.
But I hear
The Hunter's voice;
Bid me "Drink"
Unknowing, I make my choice.
I awaken, whole,
As if from a dream.
Was it imagination
Or some other scheme?
But my guitar is smashed,
Shirt torn, jacket tattered;
But my body has no signs
That I'd been battered.
I go back to the bar
To report the fight,
And the bartender asks,
Where have I been since last night?
Feeling stunned,
I call for a drink;
That bartender looks edible,
I'm starting to think.
Stunned by this thought,
I need some aid;
Soon a phone call
I have made
To find the Hunter
And ask him why
And how am I whole,
When it looked like I'd die.
I leave again,
Back to a friend's home,
Where I had been staying
While I did not roam
Later that night,
The phone does ring---
To a child with nightmares
Comfort my friend should bring
My friend is tired;
I offer to drive
So that in one piece
He may arrive.
We arrive at the place
Away from the city:
The smith's house
And the forest more than pretty.
She lets us in;
My friend sees to the child.
Too many people, the hunger
Makes me want to go wild.
The host, she gives me a drink,
And I feel almost good,
But still too many people;
I go for a walk in the wood.
Thinking of the black wolf;
Did the Hunter grow claws?
Under the moon I try, too
And break what I thought were laws.
More I change when
I meet wolves in a pack.
They talk to me,
And I answer back.
I romp with the cubs;
An answer has come:
A reason for strangeness---
A werewolf I've become!
The pack eventually leaves,
And I, too, retire.
A long night it has been,
But things no longer seem dire
I sleep through the day;
In the evening I wake.
Hungry again
So dies a raw steak.
But when I discuss
My belief with the smith,
She says that my reality
Is not the werewolf myth.
She sees my change
But cannot tell.
'Tis my quest alone;
She says I've done well.
But at last it comes clear,
When, with eyes of fire,
The Hunter reveals to me
I am a vampire.
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