That Old Black Magic

Pamela Scott


went down to

the woods last

night, in the dark,

moon shining above


went down to

the darkest part

of the woods,

right into the

old black heart


went down, deep

down, until all the

light was gone, until

the dark breathed around me


went down to the old

dying place, the hollow

where the dead used to

dance, way back in darker days


went down to the thin

place, the crack where

the dead can press through,

heard rustling all around me,

heard voices of the dead


went down, way down

to the ancient place,

seeped in blood

and ancient rites,

to the hollow where

the dead have voices


went down, deep down,

saw a group all dressed in

black, masks with red eyes,

take part in an ancient rite,

spill blood, whisper dark rites


went down, way deep

down, saw a dead girl rise

PAMELA SCOTT lives in Glasgow, UK. Her work has appeared in various magazines including Brilliant Flash Fiction, Peeking Cat Poetry, The Cannon’s Mouth, Sarasvati, The Dawntreader and Toasted Cheese Literary Magazine. She has also featured in anthologies published by Collections of Poetry and Prose and Indigo Dreams Press. She is working on her first novel.

Edited by Mike Philips