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Image for the poem THE GHOST CLUB #1: Hemlock Jones & the Mystery of the Purloined Bones

THE GHOST CLUB #1: Hemlock Jones & the Mystery of the Purloined Bones

( PART ONE )      
        
One evening’s humid host adrift, a tiger stalks the foggy banks In search of deep intrigue most foul, of evidence nefarious. Both in the silent dark & dread, and execution from its scent.  Her keen instincts, olfactory, detects in dank stilled air of night, to stealthy coax from where it comes.      
       
Till ‘round a corner cobbled road, she spies the reason for the smell. There lying in a pool of blood, a pile of flesh without the clothes. Faced up or down one could not tell. It did not help there was no head. And there, a figure huddled o’er was long-time partner Doctor Toxin, who he himself was hardly dead.        
       
The tiger lit and smoked a pipe, and mused, standing on her hind legs pacing. Thoughts’ conflicting, heart pounding, racing.        
       
”Am I to blame to think this is your work?        
I’m watching you, and looking like a jerk.        
Disgusting sight it is, I’ll have you know,        
And I don’t mean a headless, lifeless heap, by Jove!        
       
“A scruffy werewolf, Brother, I’m appalled.        
And you, by my word, after all,        
you are a cat, you’re not a dog!        
You’re supposed to be with me, fool.        
I can’t believe I trusted you!”
       
       
“Hemlock! I am with you but can’t you see?        
This is not something I would do, believe!        
I changed into a Warlock from a cat.        
You don’t know about this but most of that;        
The thing is, I’ve forgotten half the spell,        
I’m halfway there, so what you see’s a shell.”        
       
”Yes yes, I understand you, Toxin, now.        
But Lord, who was this creature run afoul?”
       
       
“What drew me here was first the mournful wail.        
It was a banshee’s warn, impending death,        
that echoed from the docks like ocean’s gale;        
I thought that it was she who took my breath.        
       
“I’ve tried to ascertain the facts, Miss Jones.        
The scorch marks on the flesh in an excuse,        
to set light. The entrails, the missing bones.        
But tell me please, what have you to deduce?”        
       
”Yes, yes. But first, give me my Ipecac.        
I’ll drink it straight up from the flask,        
there isn’t much of it to last,        
and then I shan’t more of you ask.        
       
“But fret not! I’ve not swallowed poison’s rot;        
I suspect, to meet up with a train wreck.        
       
“Me thinks all of this is one witch’s brew,        
who stirs with razzle-dazzle mystic wand.        
Her spells of conjuring are known for true.        
It’s said that she was born the Devil’s spawn.        
       
“And now you’re want to ask me, pray,        
why would this harpy, shrew of grey,        
be bothered, and, just fly away?        
       
“Why kill a man and take his bone?        
Unless, she - has - none - of her own!        
       
“She’s after bigger catch than that,        
my friend - a striped & ginger cat! ”
       
       
       
<><><>END OF PART ONE<><><>        
       
       
Hemlock Jones (a Tiger & shape-shifting Witch) = Jade Pandora        
Doctor Toxin (a Cat & a shape-shifting Warlock) = Hepcat61
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Published | Edited 22nd Feb 2019
Author's Note
This is prose poetry with segmented rhyme verse,

Part one of a collab with Hepcat61 for HadesRising’s competition “THE GHOST CLUB”.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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