Concerning the Oakwood Falls Massacree

A quick note: This poem was written for fun. I wrote it with a horror movie/classic Halloween vibe in mind. It in no way is meant to offend nor is it a commentary on religion. All one needs to do is read and enjoy. Also, I know there may be some historical inaccuracies about the history of Halloween. That's okay. I'm claiming poetic license😁

On All Hallow's Eve, Sixteen Eighty-three

Occurred the Oakwood Falls Massacree

This God-fearing town of fifty head

Fought valiantly against hordes of undead

As the full moon shone through storm grey clouds

The deceased rose up forming jangly-boned crowds

From areas allocated for eternal slumber

Corpses climbed out in countless numbers

They lurched in rank down the dusty dirt path

Toward the church where people sang of God’s wrath

Worshipping The Lord on Satan’s night

The residents oblivious to the impending plight

Choruses of Hallelujahs filled the air

Drawing the dead to congregate there

They surrounded the town’s House of God

Dripping with rain, rotting flesh, and sod

As Praise to the Almighty came to a close

The Reverend James Prescott from his chair arose

And asked the people for silence to pray

On this, the most, unholy of days

The parishioners as one bowed their heads

To pray to their God for mercy ahead

Yet before the Reverend could utter a word

A noise from outside was suddenly heard

It was the barking of the Sullivan’s hound

From next to the church where the hound was bound

Then all of the dogs in the town sang out

Warning Oakwood Falls of things about

Ignatius Blacksmith on Prescott’s right

Took upon himself to search the night

He strode to the window, looked through the pane

When he turned around his face was wane

His wife, Polly, ran to his side

Asked what he seen when he looked outside

He sunk to his knees before he said,

“All I see is a sea of dead”

“Of what do you speak?”, asked Andrew Rawls

“What did you see outside these walls?”

Ignatius Blacksmith rose to his feet

“If you open the door, the dead you’ll meet.”

Murmurs sprang up around the nave

Until Reverend Prescott’s hand did wave

When he spoke, his voice was stoic

His flock looked to him as one heroic

He looked to Ignatius and said, “Explain.

“And be precise when you tell us again.”

Ignatius spoke - “It is as I said

“Our ancestors live that we buried for dead.”

“I don’t believe you!” cried Francis Gill

And he looked out, his hands on the sill

He leaned in close, forehead to glass

Preceding an unexpected crash

Hands broke through and grabbed Gill’s neck

Pulling his feet clear off the deck

His body was dragged through jagged shards

Into the evil out in the yard

Gill screamed for the Almighty Lord

To pluck him from this Devil’s horde

But his pleas were drowned by grisly sounds

Far worse than the baying of Hell’s own hounds

For the smell of blood was in the night

Causing each of the dead to want a bite

Growls and groans, howls and moans

Filled the air with frightening tones

Only then did the people begin

To succumb to the panic they felt within

Families ran for the church house door

While others wailed upon the floor

But the Reverend called his flock to halt

Opening the trap to the underground vault

Quickly he ushered the young below

As well as their teacher, the widow Stowe

Everyone else was to form a wall

To keep the undead outside the hall

Then, in unison, all who were there

Recited the Lord’s Prayer with righteous flair

They repeated it over and over again

Even as the death toll rose to ten

The Logan brothers were the next to go

Then Mary Gadsen and her father Joe

Then the butcher’s son, Albert Sprague

Was torn to pieces by the walking plague

After that the church door was breached

And the Dades were taken while Prescott preached

With the Dades gone - all Hell broke loose

Colm Kelly reached for a bench to use

And the first being that lurched his way

Was given back its eternal stay

For the being’s head was separated from

The shoulders and body from which it’d come

Without its head, the body humbled

Into a harmless mass of bones it crumbled

Colm cried out to all who could

“Pick up the benches made of wood

“Take off their heads, even if they be

“The bodies of your own family”

With thwacks, whacks, and brain busting cracks

They began to beat the zombies back

But just when things started going their way

Daniel Johnson got caught in the fray

Rachel, his wife, who’d been battling along

Tried to rescue him from the throng

She reached for his shirt to pull him free

Yet grabbed the hand of an enemy

As the wedded Johnsons were torn asunder

Flashes of lightning and claps of thunder

Filled the darkness with sound and light

Causing the villagers to renew their fright

Many panicked and tried to run

And were nearly dead before they’d begun

With the number of living quickly dwindling

And the benches becoming nothing but kindling

All hope began to fade

A number of sacrifices were now being made

When a corpse came for Rawls and his son

Andrew did what could be done

He pushed his son into its arms

Himself dashing from the harm

Yet there wasn’t time for Rawls’s shame

Because right quick his time came

As he ran he tripped on the head

Of one of the decapitated now deceased undead

He stumbled into the loving embrace

Of his long ago buried Great Aunt Grace

She smiled at him with faint recognition

Then bit off his face without remission

His screams were drowned in the panic all round

Things were grim for this tiny, little town

That’s when Hazel Good blew in

Hovering above the visceral din

One by one the zombies fell

With a point of her hand and an unspoken spell

Within minutes all that remained

Were those still living and a pile of slain

The frightened children and the widow Stowe

Were given release from the keep below

Tears still ran and embraces were shared

All while Hazel hung in the air

Once calmed the Oakwood folk

Listened to the words Miss Good spoke

“My name has carried on your whispers

“You’ve spoken it often during vespers

“You’ve made accusations you could not prove

“About the circles in which I move”

“Now on this night you know they be true

“So I will make this promise to you

“It was not I who brought forth the dead

“It was not I for whom they fed”

“Yet, it was I who came to your aid

“Saved you from the walking decayed

“Of this night we will never speak

“You will no longer utter ‘Hazel the freak’”

“For if you do upon you I’ll wreak

“Events that would be far more bleak

“If this pact is kept with fervor

“I’ll remain your loving neighbor”

With that Hazel flew out the door

Never once touching feet to floor

The Reverend Prescott while everyone kneeled

Prayed that all the injured be healed

From that day forward it was never broached

How the once dead had once approached

This God-fearing town out in the wood

The one with a resident named Hazel Good

It’s up to you whether or not to believe

This tale about All Hallow’s Eve

Back in the year Sixteen Eighty-three

Of the Oakwood Falls Massacree