The Village Beast Poem by Saint Cynosure

Lift the page and take a peek,
for to be warned of Cedar Creek,
where evil lurks while town folk sleep,
snuggled in their manors.
People talk of rumors sparked,
chilling tales leave pounding hearts,
something lurks there in the dark,
a beast of wicked standard.
Terrors left with more to share,
preys on man and lady fare,
its by day that you go there,
the night is unforgiving.
Bounties paid but hunters slayed,
in search of what is measured,
in between the bitterness,
does rise the size of treasure.
Be not known it man or beast,
which craves the taste of bloody feast,
alives to rise from west to east,
unknown and so unspoken.
Never is the person found,
for not seen when looked around,
all seems fair till sun sits down,
then so the loss of flame.
After dark there is no laughter,
only silent speech.
If sound is heard like spoken words,
your calling for the beast.
Some do say the town is cursed,
empty of its shadows,
the village beast of Cedar Creek,
deliverer of sorrows,
bathing in the tears of souls,
from families left to borrow.
At night the people all do sleep,
but all wont wake tomorrow.