The Creature

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• The Creature

The Creature

"The Creature" is a gothic horror folklore poem by American writer Ryan Handshue. First published to the Lulu.com bookstore in November of 2024, it was well received by the community. The poem follows an old man that tells a story of a mysterious creature that tormented his home town.

Synopsis

An unknown narrator recalls a story that was told by the old Mr. Billingswall when he was just a little boy on "old winter nights." The story was of a grotesque creature that tormented the hills and plains around the town. When writer, Mac Jolk who journeyed to the town to write about the creature, only to dissapear and be killed at the hands of the creature. When the narrator becomes older, he wonders whether the story - and Billingswall - were ever real. This poem is a perfect exploration of the blur of reality and myth and the great powers of storytelling.

The Poem

Through the misty hills and ominous plains

A creature rules over everything

A hideous beast the world does not know

Silently stalking its prey down below

It raids the houses of those who sing

And whose children cry at night

But I, have found it’s past untold

By all except Mr. Billingswall

He was a man of great age

Knowledgeable of everything

He could talk and talk for hours on

Of the creature that destroyed his home

When he was just a boy

He would always start on those old winter nights

By turning off the lights

And turning to his winter rocking chair  

Sitting down without a care

He told of how the creature moved

Of how the creature thought

Prowling through that winter night

It saw the lights of the town below

And descended like a bird of prey

Upon the good citizens of Lake Bay

The creature was a great big thing

With long hair and a wicked grin

Its teeth were sharp and it had twisted claws

It snarled and growled a wicked song

Its tusks were curved above its lips

Two twisted pieces of terror for those

Who wrote about him in a sorrow prose

For he and only he alone knew about the poetry wrote

By men who believed the legends galore and

Hoped to seek him out

These same men they disappeared forever and for always

For they had fallen to the beast, the wicked creature’s tusks

On that night when the beast descended

On that sleeping town

There was a writer by the name of Mac Jolk and he was famous around

And Mr. Jolk was in my house and he was writing down

Ideas for his poem about this creature and how,

The creature hated Mac, he did not like his work

For Mac had journeyed up the hills his notebook in hand

Hoping to meet the infamous creature famous throughout the lands

When Mac had come, the creature was forced to hide

For Mac had brought dozens of men journeying by his side

They had pitchforks and lanterns and flames that licked the sky

As they hunted for the creature like they had so many other times

That night when Mac wrote, the creature began his revolt.

It descended down upon the town

Causing damage all around

The creature did not care about a thing

It just wanted revenge from the people that sought to hurt it

When it reached the home of Mr. Billingswall

It ripped the door and caused terror throughout

When it was done, the only one spared was Billingswall

And he saw the creature as it left

It had piercing yellow eyes

A great grin

And it left with Mac over its shoulder

Mr. Billingswall would eventually leave in despair

And the town would be forgotten

For all time

When he finished, he had a tired look in his eye

He let out a heavy sigh

He always finished by letting us know

That nights when the stars didn’t glow

You might be able to hear

The soft cry from the creature up there

Or when it was a cold night

The creature’s yellow eyes might burn

Into your window when it is your turn

When I was young

I wondered if Billingswall told an olde wives tale

But now I’m wise

And I understand

There was no man named Mr. Billingswall