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A Tale From The Dark Side
By Mark Spencer
I first heard of Detur Sanguin
In tales handed down from old.
A man accursed, with unquenchable thirst.
A soul, to the devil, sold.
He made a pact with a demon,
For a lady's heart, he would win.
His lust was great, and thus sealed his fate.
Here does his tale begin.
The lady's hand had been promised
To his eldest son to be wed.
It was a vow he would never allow,
And by morning his son was dead.
But the wedding went on as planned.
He said 'I do' to his young bride.
He sold his life for to make her his wife,
But when he kissed her, she died.
Since that day centuries have passed.
His legend still heard now and then.
He prowls the night, as a demon in flight,
Preying on the daughters of men.
If you should take a moonlight stroll
Down country road or city street.
If you've golden hair like his lady fair,
Then this creature, you may one day meet.
He is hunting for a victim,
Who will satisfy his thirst.
Another life, so much like his wife.
The one for which he was cursed!
You'll hear the sound of leathern wings,
And a cry of anguish, grim.
You'll feel his breath, e'er a gruesome death.
As he rends you limb from limb.
If you have listened to this tale,
And you wonder if it's true,
Best keep in mind, 'tis a fool who's blind.
The next victim could be you.
End.
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