SWEET SUZY SWANSON: A Horror Story w/ Gnomes

by Child of Loki

They came forth,
Bursting from cheery ceramic shells.
Fake frozen facsimiles shattered into sharp sherds.
Their claws cruel crescents,
Their smiles as wicked
As their progenitors’
Were painfully prosaic.

Sweet Suzy Swanson
Flew from the window,
Taking large oaken stairs hastily.
Her tiny feet ne’er touched the worn and warped
Wood.
Pigtails fluttered with pink ribbons
As the door swung open,
The ghoulish gusts greeting her
As they rushed
Within from
Without.

And with winds
Came the hushed howls of
A somber silent night
Fraught with eerie peril.

Evil things were afoot.

And now,
So was
Sweet Suzy Swanson.

The street was empty,
Abandoned as one would expect
When an orb waxed high in the sky,
With the unearthly orange glowing glower
Of the Man in the Moon.

The chagrin Cheshire grin challenged.

And,
Sweet Suzy Swanson
Submitted.

The Pitter-patter of precious, petite feet
Echoed down the street
As
Sweet Suzy Swanson
Was swayed by curiosity
And
Surreptitiously
She crept as others slept,
Inept
To the augmenting angry anguish
Flourishing amongst the flowerbeds.

Little lady with lovely locks
Tiptoed towards the garden gate
Slowly, sweetly, unafraid
She spied creatures neither cuddly
Nor craven
And
Rather brazen,
She entered their haven.

Paused, posturing claws
And rich red round
Eyes,
Spied
Sweet Suzy Swanson,
Full of frills and luscious lace,
Precise and perfect pink ribbons,
Skin scrubbed sparkling,
And her
Fluffy furry friend
Clutched carefully close.

Sweet Suzy Swanson,
Bursting with
Inferred ingenuousness and innocence,
An easy thrill, an easy kill
For malicious monsters.

But

Heart was not rend,
Tissue not torn,
Life not ripped,
Soul not stripped.

Instead,
Sweet Suzy Swanson
was
Spared.

And the depraved demons stared.
Not one dared
Demonstrate their devilish dexterity
With cruel, cutting crochet hooks.

For in
Sweet Suzy Swanson,
The nasty gnarled gnomes
Found a familiar face,
A kind of kindred spirit
That kindled comradery
Within their heinous hearts.

What poignant purpose would such a
Severe soul
As that which resided, resting within
Sweet Suzy Swanson
Serve?

When would the dormant
Dreadful deviant
Beast
Arise,
Fueled by furious, foaming
Bloodlust?

Better not to be the beast’s bane.
Far better to fetter with friendship
Such a voracious and vile viper.

Perhaps an invitation was in order
To the
Babe
Who was
Bolstered by the buried beast.

So

Merrily with marching monsters,
Down the dark and serenely silent street,
Hand in helpful, happy hand,
Skipped
Sweet Suzy Swanson.

What dogs would bark their baleful best tomorrow?
What cats yowling yesterday
Would yodel yet?

None that encountered
Sweet Suzy Swanson
The night the nasty, gnarled gnomes
Found a friendly face.

For indeed,
They found a fiendishly friendly face
In
Sweet. Suzy. Swanson.