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Image for the poem THE GHOST CLUB #2: Hemlock Jones & the Mystery of the Purloined Bones

THE GHOST CLUB #2: Hemlock Jones & the Mystery of the Purloined Bones

( PART TWO )        
          
There was a shout-out sent the local park to full alert the crows who nested there. A number of them flew to where they met the pair of sleuths; the tiger and the mishappened werewolf, who told them of the crime. The leader bird hopped over to the two and piped up while his buddies cawed:          
           
”Aaw, what a shame, Miss Jones, about all this,          
We didn’t hear a thing, we was in church.          
I’ll tell ya what we’ll do so your not piss’d,          
keep watch your friend while things are in the lurch.”
         
           
”Good fellow, Regginess – it might be a while.          
Take care of this; a person’s under there.          
Appreciate the help; I like your style,          
with gratitude and thanks, you’ll be my heir.”
         
           
While crows placed sentries ‘round the mold’ring pile, the two determined sleuths sought out a quiet place a while of heeding; a plan to call upon was greatly needed.          
           
”My friend, a blessing first to change you back,          
I’m trying to recall the Warlock’s name.          
We can’t continue this with you like that,          
can you recall the summoner’s wide fame?”
         
           
“I do believe I know and where he lives,          
from back behind a waterfall apiece.          
His tongue, the words ambiguous he gives,          
might help me in my change, a wolf’s release.”          
           
The two went off, deciding as they marched, to find this talent in a Warlock, legend’s talk. They followed up a river from the coast, for half a night without sleep looking for their host.  And there at last as sunrise peeked from the trees, the rushing sound, the moving sight of a waterfall. And, as if he knew their presence’ on the way, the Warlock whom they sought came from the mist and greeted them.  A fine and strapping conjurer was he, and this they came to see was all they’d hoped.          
           
The three sat ‘round a fire behind the falls, with bats that flittered, sonic whistle’s sound and all.  Their host arose, well over six feet tall, and spoke with solemn grace in deepened voice:    
   
Trouble, the *Welsh Warlock Summoner         
           
”I’ve just of late composed a spell of such          
that calls upon temptation of the one          
who’s caught between and holds you in its clutch.          
I’m Trouble; incantation till it’s done.
         
           
There was no time to lose; they gathered close, while Warlock Trouble lit pine tar torches – the shadows crept.  The sleuthers’ bowed and waited for the chant, while Trouble painted signs upon their brows, fire’s light leapt!  And then he spoke:          
           
”On altar of Mabinogion we charge our shields.          
Kneeling, wedding Silures & Ordovice tribes          
On white book of Rhydderch’s feathered pages.          
Fury of the faeries raises Prince Llewelyn’s sword          
Which slayed his trusted hound Gelert,          
Silver lightens incantation ‘cross dark’ning skies:    
   
The Incantation (in Welsh, in English)          
           
*"Lle mae’r bryniau’n arwain y llwyfan          
Edrychwch dros y man geni          
Ac ni fydd y plentyn yn anghofio          
Er bod dyn yn betrays ei werth          
Gadewch I un sy’n cael ei golli ddychwelyd          
No fydd ef blyth yn mynd crwydro          
Sut mae cof ynddo yn llosgi          
Ac ni fydd yn anghofio y ffordd.          
           
*"Where the hills that guide the step          
Overlook the place of birth          
And the child will not forget          
Though a man betrays its worth          
Let one who is lost return          
That he never more will stray          
How the memory in him burns          
And he won’t forget the way."
         
           
           
And as they came to in their consciousness, all realized that the falls had stopped and gone quiet, save for residue of drops that echoed through the caves of bats.          
           
           
<><><><><><><><>END OF PART TWO<><><><><><><><>          
           
Hemlock Jones (a Tiger & shape-shifting Witch = Jade Pandora  
Doctor Toxin (a Cat & shape-shifting Warlock = Hepcat61  
Regginess, a Harbinger Crow = ReggiePoet (Reggie)  
Trouble, the *Welsh Warlock Summoner= Trouble-Loves-Me
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Published | Edited 22nd Feb 2019
Author's Note
This is prose poetry with segmented rhyme verse.

Part two of a collab with Hepcat61 (along with guests of DUP members) 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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