The Bhochula

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

Well I was going to write a short story about a Witch in the Woods, and for some reason ended up with this weird little poem.

Submitted: August 07, 2018

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Submitted: August 07, 2018



The Bhochula (Bokoola)


Deep in the forest where the light is dim.

Where the air is thick,

and the atmosphere is grim.

There is a cave, a deep hole to hell

That belches out its stench,

an evil sulphurous smell.

It is the lair of the wicked Witch

Where the wild crone lives

Where she howls at the moon like a scalded bitch

She weaves her dark magic and casts her spells

She plays her bone pipes with a shrilling yell

And dances naked and jangles her hells’ bells.

She is the Bhochula, a forest spirit

Some call a sprite, some a spriggan

No matter what she is?

She keeps her true identity well hidden.

She cocoons her prey and drags them down

Then she eats their flesh like a hungry wyvern.

She makes candles from their fat

And wind chimes from their bones.

She weaves their hair into a hat

And fashions their flesh into her clothes.

So if you are out in the woods

You better be alert and beware.

If the smell of sulphur hangs in the air

And the wind whistles through the trees

And the cackling of her laughter

Blows the leaves on its chill breeze.

Turn and run and don’t look back

For the Bhochula could be hunting you,

On spiny legs with dripping fangs and evil eyed stare.

For her candles are all but burnt down

And she needs fresh skin for a new dress to wear

And some shiny new teeth for her skull crown.

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