A cloaked and hooded shadowy figure lurks over a small village in the night of a dark, eerie forest, leaves blowing beneath the full moon overhead.

A quiet town, on prairie found
the gentle people sleeping.
The dawn has come, the morning sun
finds a gruesome secret keeping.
The first to rise found a grim surprise:
an arm and two bloody feet.
The village woke to find Fred Oak
ripped to pieces in the street.

With no passers through, the village knew
the killer is one of us.
And the paw prints found across the ground
made everyone suspicious.
Now many a year had passed by here
since the legends first began;
no one believed til this gruesome deed
in wolves disguised as man.

The bite marks chewed in the wolf’s dead food
confirmed our fears were true:
somewhere within family and friend,
one of us was loup garou.
Once blood was cleaned from the grizzly scene
and Fred was proper buried,
the entire town then gathered round
so justice could be carried.

Between our kin, family and friends
we’d never broken trust.
But truth was out, there was no doubt:
a killer was among us.
We all were scared as we joined there
each solemn and perplexed.
But we all knew if the wolf’s not slew
Might any of us be next.

A silent crowd stared each other down;
no one would speak the first.
But the silence broke when the elder spoke
and said “Waiting makes it worse.
The daily sun is halfway done;
soon moon will be overhead.
The hungry beast again will feast
unless first we kill him dead.”

Then a sudden din as we all jumped in,
each crying an accusation.
Amid the noise, Sheriff raised his voice
and halted the conversation.
“We can shout all day, but that’s not the way
to sort out which is which.
So gentle folk, I propose a vote
to hang the son of a bitch.”

Chilly with fear, no culprit clear
it seemed our only prospect.
So we each agreed, on count of three
to point out our chosen suspect.
With no other choice, in calm clear voice
the Sheriff was the host.
He counted three, each pointed we
at the friend we suspected most.

When we counted votes we found the most
were pointed at Sam O’Shallows.
Protested he, “It wasn’t me!”
still we strung him from the gallows.
Hanging from noose, his life was loosed
his body twisted in the breeze.
That deed now done, I think everyone
was almost put to ease.

With daylight spent, to our homes we went
and tucked our children into bed
That evil day, we could only pray
that the wolf was truly dead.
That night we found that the only sound
was the hooting of the owls.
Til midnight broke and I was awoke
by a nearby creature’s howls…