He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t alive.
He had a reflection, but he couldn’t look at it.
He wasn’t afraid of crosses, but he never went near them.
He didn’t drink blood, but he sucked the life out of people to stay alive.
And he walked in the sunlight every day.
He wasn’t transformed by a full moon, but he liked to hunt by night
He never howled at the sky, but he could speak like an animal.
He never ate anyone, but devoured more than one soul.
His bite never turned someone into a wolf, but made some victims into monsters.
And he wore silver every time he hunted.
His flesh wasn’t made of other men, but his identity was.
He wasn’t built by another man, but he was transformed by one.
He wasn’t hated by the villagers, but they weren’t his friends.
He never robbed from the dead, but he took certain things from the living.
And he kept a pitchfork in his barn.
It didn’t climb buildings, but it took them over.
It didn’t trample houses, but it made people homeless.
It didn’t capture any women, but it controlled a few.
It didn’t destroy cities, but it leveled forests.
And the police never tried to shoot it.
She didn’t have a black cat, but she had several pets.
She didn’t ride on a broom, but she managed to get around.
She didn’t know any magic, but she could cast spells.
She never turned anyone into a newt, but she could make a prince feel like a frog.
And she loved warm water.
They are not immortal, but they never go away.
They aren’t omnipresent, but they’re everywhere.
Their stories aren’t true, but they aren’t lies.
There are ways to stop them, but monsters tend not to follow the rules.
And the heroes who would slay them still look for magic bullets.
- Alice in Reality
- Tongue Lies