How fearful the night

must have been when lurking demons
wandered the cobbled streets, looking for
unwary, impious souls to
drag down to the fiery pits
of eternal torment, when the deep
forests rang with the sounds of Satan's whores
laughing wildly as the Dark One entered
them,
and the meadows after sundown held every
variety of hellish monster and assassin,
waiting to gouge the life out of anyone
foolish enough to challenge the horrors of
the darkness.
Werewolves bayed, ogres tore the
flesh off the living, and smoky
nightmares nailed the spirit to
hideous crosses.
How could anyone survive the Devil's
Menagerie without
roasting the old women alive in public,
burning the Talmud in solemn ritual,
flogging one's back until it was
suppurating and raw, or asking the
village priest to exorcise the mad spirits
from the frothing, raving lunatic?