Creative Writing Challenge: Metamorphosis

Twas the night before last
And all could agree
There were shivers in clouds
and jerks in our knees
When from a window bare
A cry pinched and sharp
Awoke e’ery child
And sleeping adult.

Twas the cry of the Jagrowl
The most fearful of beasts
It catches its prey
By beating it wings
With jowls sluicy grim
And eyes big as cups
The Jagrowl leaps
between trees and burning veld.

That night ne’er someone did sleep
Or had a son of their own to keep
All the young men leapt forth to the hunt
And neither returned, nor stayed their knives blunt.

“What will we do,
when the Jagrowl comes?
Our sons they are gone;
Our daughters are won;
Our babies are cold in their keep.”

The Jagrowl sleeps in the day.
Biding his time for the night.

When the moon shines
He opens his large eyes
Hoots and hisses his fangs at the stars

“What will we do when the Jagrowl comes?”

Aim for the jugular.

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