The Specter

Toward the ground, Sun finished its rounds
And with the hills did marry
A soft red glow on gray stone did show
The walls of a monastery

A silent place, of strict rule and haste
Of order, meant undisturbed
But recent events showing cruel intent
Left many a monk perturbed

The idea would play, a specter, some say
Did haunt the holy walls
Noises in the night, recounted with fright
Some told of rasping calls

Livestock was killed, milk, honey, spilled
Leaving bloody messes behind
And as much as they looked, in each cranny and nook
No culprit did they e'er find.

As legend does tell, events didn't sit well
With the Abbot, pious and chaste
Opinions he'd fix, denounce heretics;
Ghost and Abbot would meet face to face

Ready for worst, for specter's cold curse
Exorcism equipment prepared
The Abbot walked round the corridors, found
Nothing of poltergeist err

As the next round was made, in his mind he played
The procedure he needed to free
His home from the haunts of a specter's cruel taunts
As he tugged at his rosary

In his second round, nothing he found
To prove a specter was near
But, against his will, his spine did chill
He slumped down by a wall in fear.

A voice was heard, and word by word
An entity voiced its plea
"Allow me to show all it is that I know.
What it was that happened to me."

"The things that I broke, the chickens I choked
I needed to catch someone's eye
And now that you're here, please have no fear,
It is by your rules I'll abide"

"I've been here for years, I've seen blood and tears
And now I just want to be free.
My hurt goes quite deep, now I want to sleep
But I'm trapped in this Holy abbey."

"Though it's sad and it's gory, I'll show you the story
Of how it was that I came to be here
Then once you know, I'll willingly go
To the Oblivion I no longer fear"

Said the old abbot "Yes, tis fitting, I guess
That to me your sad story be told
And once it is done, you may turn to the sun
And let go of the life you still hold"

The abbot, in awe, gasped out as he saw
A vision of times long ago
No color to be seen, no tint, hue or sheen
A world of gray pallidly shown

In this pale, toneless place, the monk saw a face
As a young man ran into the fray
A flash of color was seen, his eyes shone bright green
Two pinpoints in which light did play

This young man was hurt, gray blood soaked his shirt
From an arrow, lodged deep in his chest
He looked out to a river, and the priest did shiver
To see the destination of the poor young man's quest

A young woman he found, crawling the ground
To escape a lusty dark man
This man's eyes glowed blue, innocence proved untrue
He had a dark and sinister plan

He ripped at her clothing, his eyes filled with loathing
And want for a perverted taste
But the young man advanced, his blade his one chance
And with each step did his stout heart race.

Though the young man's blood poured, he swung his gray sword
The dark man lurched and cried out in pain
He fell to the ground, uttered not a sound
The blue eyes would not shine again

The green-eyed young man, though his head still span
Walked to his love and fell just beside
They shared their last kiss, one small, final bliss
And together they finally died.

The abbot awoke, and the ghost softly spoke
"We were buried here when we were found.
And still, to this day, you may search, if you may
Our gravestones stand firm in the ground."

"I've shown you my story, in all of its glory
I now ask you, please let me go
I tire of life, of this old, painful strife.
I look forward to the peace I should know."

The old abbot sighed, his arms opened wide
His eyes closed, his mind deep in thought
He finally stirred, his speech slightly slurred
From sadness the vision had wrought

"No more shall you grieve, you now have my leave.
You may go to the heavens you seek"
And from the stone wall, there came a loud call
Which rose to a violent shriek.

"You fool!" said the being, through cold laughter, seething
And a form was seen, made of pure light
It advanced too fast, and the old abbot gasped
As he was battered with terrible might

The abbot did fall against the stone wall
Bent and broken, the old man was dead
His rosary crashed, the glass beads were smashed,
As the ghost's blue eyes shined overhead...

Congratulations! You've made it to the end! Please tell me what you think, I'd greatly enjoy opinions. If you're willing to read another ridiculously long poem, I suppose it's only fair to tell you that this is the second poem in a series of five. The first has already been submitted, under the name "The Stones of an Untamed Paradise"

Thanks for reading!