The Stickman Cometh

As I came walking home one night
beneath a sallow moon
the wind it whispered warning me
‘the Stickman cometh soon’

Alarmed I hurried down the path
as trees above me sighed
then leaned in close as if to watch
my fear go stumbling by

The moon gave up and hid her face
abandoning the skies
shadows ran along the hedge
that housed a thousand eyes

Then rustlings sinister came close
to match me stride for stride
and breathings like some rabid beast
left nowhere I might hide

I broke into a frantic run
near-galloped best I could
sheer panic powering my legs
to speed me through that wood

where I was sure a figure leered
obscenely taunting me
all twigs and moss and leafy-haired
it gestured horribly

I smelt the reek of rotting wood
as pungent waves rolled round
with terror’s fingers at my throat
I prayed without a sound

I cannot tell how long it was
I sprinted on and on
time and distance made no sense
my scattered wits all gone

The only thought remaining lodged
in my so-rattled head
was if this thing caught up with me
I was as good as dead

At last I glimpsed my neighbour’s gate
and just beyond my own
another twenty yards and I’d
be safe and sound at home

Precisely at that moment came
a shock that chilled me through
a twig had tangled round my arm
one snagged my collar too

I hollered loud and struggled wild
to break the Stickman’s grip
then heard the satisfying snap
his failing grasp let slip

I tore away his gnarled old claw
he gave a ghastly groan
and simply vanished — left me there
a-tremble all alone

I pulled together quaking limbs
and made it to my door
weeping with insane relief
still shaken to the core

I lit some candles — chanted spells
drew circles round in salt
as pure protection — hexing those
that break the bounds of thought

I tried to rest but sleep refused
to offer some respite
I lay embalmed in ice-cold sweat
each second dragged that night

The wind outside took on a voice
that crackled dry as leaves
it menaced slates or hissed as sly
as snakes beneath the eaves

I could not quite ignore its song
it seeped into my brain
and resurrected childhood fears
old nightmares lived again

So every creak the house gave out
became the monsterous tread
of something wicked creeping slow
to find me hunched in bed

and whimpering in utter fright
no different now as then
for dread carves deep in memory
no matter where or when

It tightened savage in my chest
a knot that squeezed my heart
so hard it juddered — missed a beat
I felt all strength depart ...

It seemed life hovered in suspense
despite it hurt to breathe
as though it was the fear itself
forbade my spirit leave

and stubborness dredged up a well
of anger that emerged
to challenge every lurking ghost
or wretched wraith that stirred

Ideas then turned around to dwell
on how to exorcise
the Stickman wandering abroad
to blight folk’s blameless lives

But was it really down to me?
My answer gusted past —
the wind blew loud and something tapped
my bedroom window’s glass

I knew without a moment’s doubt
who’d clambered on my sill
and stared between the curtain’s chink
to find me pale and still

Raw horror frozen on my face
my muscles loath to shift
until I strove to meet that fiend
and sensed fear’s shackles lift

I flung the curtain back and glared
time locked us eye to eye
I kept my nerve and sterner stared
till with a stricken cry

he dropped from sight — retreating to
the woods from whence he came
as dull-toned thunder overhead
announced the sleeting rain ...

A second night he visited
we played the same old game
I stared him out for good or ill
and dared him come again

The third I knew I must confront
the power that he had
to mesmerize and so unhinge
the sanest — drive them mad

I vowed I’d find him in the wood
then sever root from crown
in hope to end his nightmare-reign
and bring him crashing down

I studied all the legends well
took notes from authors wise
in ways of magick — learned the ropes
and called on spirit guides

They coached me in the ways of fire —
anathema to wood —
a bearer of the sacred flame
that purges and makes good

I caught the spark and tamed its heat
and kept it in a jar
changing colour — blue to gold
it dazzled like a star

I mastered this pure element
as weapon to employ
against that manlike travesty
subdue him then destroy

My preparations all in place
no reason to delay
I gathered courage to myself
deciding the dread day

had come and it was time to meet
my enemy at last
the date auspicious from such signs
the rolling runes forecast

I hid the jar beneath my coat
its warmth a comfort there
with solemn ritual locked the door
and muttered soft a prayer

in hope I would return unscathed
my quest not be in vain
and I’d survive to tell the tale
resume my life again

The woods stretched grim and strangely quiet
its birds it seemed struck dumb
the eerie silence pressed on me
faint hope he might not come

I ventured further through dark trees
their shadows deep and old
and superstition flooded through —
recalled the tales of old

describing dreadful nameless things
that lurked though rarely seen
except by those who disappeared
where ghost-lights wink and gleam ...

My nerves strung tight as jangling wires
I crept along the path
wary as a hounded beast
that checks both fore and aft

and freezing every other step
my progress pained and slow
teeth clenched until my jawbone ached
the tension gripped me so

And still no sign of him I sought
I slumped beside a tree
struck by reason’s train of thought —
I’d let him come to me!

I hunkered down — leaned back against
the trunk of a great pine
grateful for the hidden fire —
that spark of hope divine

Long minutes passed — my thoughts they strayed
my body still as stone
then suddenly became aware
I wasn’t on my own

Sheer panic had me cowering
I sensed rather than saw
a presence looming through the trees
its breathing ragged-raw

Like lamps his green eyes bored me through
malevolent as hell
as he advanced I caught once more
the overpowering smell —

mildewed leaves and lichen damp
corrupted by decay
suffocating — cloud on cloud
came choking on its way

I held my breath my cheeks now wet
with tears that stung my skin
then tugged together what remained
of courage shrunk within

From out my coat I pulled the jar
of fire designed to save
me from this monster or my fate
would be an early grave

The Stickman not a yard away
I threw it like a bomb
the contents flared and flames took hold
on all they fell upon

In moments he was well alight
the conflagration roared
and furious he thrashed his limbs
while liquid fire still poured

He toppled slowly — fell full length
his body broke apart
and from his chest a cloud escaped
rough-shaped to form a heart

It floated free and hovered near
as black and dense as fog
I moved away — it followed me
like some freak devil-dog

There came to me a warning voice
insisting ‘do not run
but try to lure it — play for time
until the rising sun

with Dawn’s pure light can pierce that fog
dissolve away — disperse
its poisonous and hateful heart
thus lift the Stickman’s curse’

And that was how (as legends tell)
such monsters meet their fate —
driven back from whence they came
through Hell’s fire-twisted gate

That chapter closed. Except some nights
when winter winds blow keen
and footsteps echo through the dark
whatever stalks unseen

I fear the shadow in my wake
and dream I smell again
the compost stench of wood and leaves
well-rotted-down by rain ...