The Madman’s Song

by Darlene Holt

“On the twelfth night of Christmas, my killer gave to me:
twelve hours stalking,
eleven haunting phone calls,
ten severed fingers,
nine pleas for mercy,
eight ripped out teeth,
seven fatal stab wounds,
six organs bleeding,
five chilling screams,
four shattered ribs,
three gasping breaths,
two arms tied,
and a corpse hanging in an elm tree.”

The madman’s song whisks through the brisk December breeze. The Santa-clad monster grins, crimson suit vibrant against pallid skin like the blood-speckled snow below. He saunters away, still smiling, and the world darkens—my last morsel of life draining from my dangling, mangled body.

Darlene Holt