Darkness and fright?

In these woods we dared to be
Though tales were told of tragedy
Of monsters hiding deep in woods
We shan't believe them no one should
 
Though we don't believe these tales  
Could there be more beyond the trails?
Each tree we pass we trek deeper in woods
Down comes the rain and up go our hoods
 
With thunder and lightning our minds start to wander
Could there really be monsters way out yonder?
Now we're lost cant see our way back
We're frightened we may be under attack
 
Now running and leaping through trees and vines
We both felt a tingle go straight up our spines
To a halt we both came as we peer through the rain
A cabin we spy and now feel the strain
 
We have no other choice, no shelter in place
Now we see the fear in each others face
Slowly we creep to the cabin below
No one we see only a light a glow
 
It's now or never maybe they won't mind
All we care is hopefully their kind
No one is home we both started sying
Once inside we then started drying
 
Do you smell that I ask? Smells like blood
Don't be silly she said, its probably just mud
Lurking around where I shouldn't be
I slipped and fell down straight on my knees
 
I don't want to look, to see what is there
It's probably just rain that's dripping in here
I cut on the light and to my surprise
There on the table was a head? but what size?
 
Shocked I walked backwards away
Surely a trick someone has played
You have to see this I said!
I've found a mangled human head!
 
We packed up to leave we should have kept walking
Little did we know the monster had been stalking
We rush to the door were almost out
But on the other side there came a shout
 
What really happened to the girls? no one knows
Only one made it out so the story goes
Shes in the assylum where she hides herself away
Smells like blood she says every day

It's dark and damp in Georgia, near    
this Cahulawassee river,    
a jungle like Borneo, it's clear  
as I break another nail, and shiver.    
On the Appalachian trail    
a visit to the primitive past,    
" I must be outta my tree," I wail    
but mostly I need food and fast.    
    
" Dinner's ready " a ghostly moan              
dies away in the falling night,              
a rattle of pans make me groan              
coz I ain't dined since early light.              
The smell of smoke awakes my plight              
as does the aroma of roast pork,             
I've already pulled my belt in tight              
as my hike starts to feel, like work.              
              
No campfire flame, as yet, is shown              
no track pointing to campsite,              
just torturing smells, these are blown              
up my nose becoming my sight.              
And my tracking skills track it right              
Ah! a Bisto-Kid... in the gloomy murk              
but still slavering for a bite              
but no welcoming campfire spark.              
               
But my nose leads me to a hut,              
a stone stove, a G.I dixie,             
my belly thinks my throat's been cut              
but the smell of long-cooked-piggy,              
turns my hands to tearing claws              
all is silent, not a sound,            
but slurping lips, my chomp of jaws           
filling belly, now heaven bound.              
             
I poke the fire up to a blaze              
and see the roasted leg is, kinda small,             
no crackling but hell I'm ready to praise              
the cook an' clean an' wash an' all.              
In the gloom I kick a boot              
and my delight is changed to fright,              
coz horror of horrors in it, a foot              
as I bang outta there into the night,            
I knock a table, something rolls to the floor,                
a chopped up head with accusing eyes              
watched me chase my vomit, out the door...

In the depths of hell, a man abandoned his home

walking slowly, his journey has come.

Dante, the pilgrim, on a quest he desire,

to save his love, and to set her soul on fire.


Through the gates of hell, he did descend,

Into the darkness, his fate started to tend.

He faced the horrors while on defend,

and jumping against them in a offend.


At the first circle, the lustful he saw,

whose sins were great, so fearsome and awful,

In the second circle, the gluttonous layed,

their punishment: forever to be tossed and decayed.


In the third circle, the greedy did dwell,

Their fate, to be forever trapped in a well.

In the fourth circle, the wrathful got their rage,

for punishment, to be forever trapped in a cage.


In the fifth circle, the heretics did burn,

Their fate, to be forever in flames, so stern.

In the sixth circle, the violent did suffer,

their punishment, to be forever in the mud and to rougher.


In the seventh circle, the fraudulent did dwell,

Their fate, to be forever in a river of boiling blood, so swell.

In the eighth circle, the treacherous did lie,

Their punishment, to be forever in ice, so high.


In the ninth circle, the traitors did lie,

Their fate, to be forever stuck in the frozen lake, so dry,

And in the center of hell, sat Lucifer,

The embodiment of evil, like a minister.


But Dante, the pilgrim, did not falter,

He faced his fears, and did not alter,

And in the end, he emerged victorious,

His soul was saved, and his love, propitious.


Thus ends the tale of Dante's Inferno,

A story of fear, love, and courage so fair,

A tale that will live on, besides the despair.

12.09.2022

They'd gone on the trip because of Sophie, who fancied herself a survivalist and had her own blog on the theme, called Woodswoman.

That one of their group was overweight and another more used to surviving the Black Friday crushes at London department stores was irrelevant. They went to a small town near the Welsh border. To one side of the town were deep woods, which the group set out to explore. Some years ago a nightclub bouncer had gone on a killing spree and hid in those woods for more than a month before dying in a shootout with police.  
 
'It'll be just like when we were kids!' said Sophie as they clambered out of the land rover that Simone had driven them in. Simone hefted her bulk out of the vehicle and started taking down their rucksacks. She shouldered the heaviest one, which was stuffed with their cooking equipment and food supplies, so that when she moved she clattered like a walking kitchen.  
 
Children of the "Essex missions", outreach programmes by churches, the women had met when they were nine or so. The day of their hike through the woods was wet and windy, as tends to be expected on the Welsh border. They wore rain ponchos and slogged towards the line of trees. Bethany, who'd needed to be told that you don't wear expensive outfits for hiking, glanced back at the car park and the town before crossing into the woods.  
 
Sophie walked up to an immense tree and took out her smartphone. 'Come on, girls, let's take one for Twitter!'  
 
The women all wore rain ponchos in different primary colours. 'We look just like the Powerpuff Girls!'  
 
'Yeah,' snorted Simone. 'She-Bear Grylls, Carrie Bradshaw, and a fat lesbian.' Bethany, standing to the other side of Sophie, swatted the back of Simone's head. 'I keep telling you not to call me that,' she said. 'For one thing, I don't look like a horse.'  
 
'I dunno, I like Carrie.'  
 
'You'd break the poor thing' said Sophie. 'Anyway, smile!' The picture was taken and posted on social media before they'd re-shouldered their backpacks.  
 
They were hiking towards a cabin that had been maintained as a sort of tourist attraction since it had been there since the 1790s. When they reached the cabin, which stood at the crest of a rise with a line of trees behind it, the women were exhausted and sat about on the floor. The cabin had one large room that the front door opened onto as well as a short corridor to either side of which were separate rooms.  
 
The large room contained a small kitchen area, including a rusted but still operational stove that looked like it had been bought by a 1950s housewife. 'How is this place even hooked up to receive gas, and where are we supposed to go to the loo?' asked Bethany.  
 
'She-Bear shits in the woods,' said Simone.  
 
'Ignore her,' said Sophie, gesturing at the corridor, 'there's a working lav down...' Her sentence was cut short by a scream from Simone, who'd moved to the stove and opened it before slamming it shut again. The colour had drained from her face.  
 
'What, what is it?!' said Sophie as she and Bethany ran to her. Simone took her hands from her mouth. 'The oven,' she whispered. 'There's a fucking human head in it!'  
 
Sophie confirmed this hypothesis for herself while Bethany comforted Simone. 'Oh Jesus,' she muttered. 'It's that guy, Douglas Coleman.'  
 
'Who?' said Bethany.  
 
'That bouncer. The one who killed all those people about five years ago after he caught his girlfriend with another man.'  
 
'Listen to yourself, Sophie! That doesn't make ANY fucking sense. Firstly, who would have decapitated him and left his head in the oven? Secondly, it's been five years! The flesh would have rotted off the skull by now!'  
 
'...well, maybe it just looks like him. At any rate, I can't get any reception this far in, so we need to get back to town and report this. Are you able to walk, or do you need a minute?'  
 
Simone indicated that she was fine and the three of them braced themselves for another several-hour trek, back the way they'd come. An hour in, the sun started to descend and spread a shroud across the woods. The cold air sharpened and a light drizzle spattered their plastic ponchos.  
 
A couple of hours later they were descending another rise when Bethany finally said: 'how much longer is it? Shouldn't we be there by now?'  
 
'Oh God...' Sophie was a little way ahead, staring down at something in the dark. There was a full moon above them and it lit her up in her red poncho like a Christmas bauble. Neither Bethany nor Simone spoke, perhaps knowing in their guts what Sophie was looking at.  
 
They walked up beside and followed her gaze to a square of light between two trees, bisected by a black bar. They were looking at a window, and as their eyes focused they took in the contours of a cabin. 'How did you know his name?' asked Simone of Sophie. 'Why didn't you just say "that guy"? We were here, weren't we?'  
 
Sophie's face had frozen into a death mask of pained realisation and regret. Regret that she'd bullied her friends into joining her for this trip. Regret that she was destined to feel again and again and again and again, always anew each time, until whatever strange intelligence ruled the universe decided to stop replaying the same footage. 'We're STILL here,' was all that she said.