In the darkness of the night,
While all the world sleeps tight,
There were once three little kids,
Not too small, or too big,
Who gathered around in the living room one day,
To share a story that had crossed their way:-
There was once a young girl,
Some twenty-and-one perhaps,
With eyes like the ocean and hair of silk,
She was beautiful, my little chaps.
But the beauty wasn’t free of vanity,
As shown by her actions every day,
Since she admired herself in the mirror day in and day out,
Whether she was tired or getting in another’s way.
But as they say pride cometh before a fall,
So did hers, my friends,
Cause met with an accident, she did one day,
And lost her beautiful face to the fence.
The situation was so hideous indeed,
That the doctors forbade her from seeing a mirror,
Ever again in her life, lest she
Saw herself and lost her mind in terror.
And so the girl, once beautiful as the dawn,
Was forbidden to gaze upon what she loved the most,
And like an addict kept from his drink,
She finally found a way to taste her toast.
Sneak in, she did, in her mother’s room one day,
Where the lady kept a looking-glass,
Not too big, or too small,
It was enough to damage, alas.
Because as soon as the girl saw herself in the mirror,
She broke down in heartfelt rage,
With tears of sorrow for that what was lost,
She couldn’t stand to lose beauty at her age.
And so she walked into the mirror,
To find that what she had lost,
And pledged to kill brutally if any,
Tried to keep her from this at any cost.
And that’s how my friends the legend arose,
Of Bloody Mary or Mary Worth,
The woman in the mirror whose name is forbidden,
To be uttered lest it called the cursed.
The kids on hearing this couldn’t wait to try,
The same before a mirror, uttered her name thrice.
“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, We Believe in you Bloody Mary,” they cried,
In mischief the warning they defied.
Puff, blew out the candle the middle one held aloft,
The room darkened instantly, no moonlight soft.
Terror clouded their souls, maybe Bloody Mary had come alright,
And when one of them screamed in fright,
The three fled the scene in hindsight.
Once safe and far away from the glass,
They examined each other and alas,
Discovered that one of them was marked,
With three deep gouges that bled dark,
Down the sides of his face and would ever more,
Remind him of his foolhardy sore.
And so my dear friends, do not
Try and call the ill-got
That lives in the mirror and doesn’t wish to be called;
In her pursuit of her reflection doesn’t wish to be stalled.
Hey people! I missed you all a lot and if you read my last post you would know that I have been stuck in a major writer’s block. Not that it’s gone for good but I am trying, definitely.
So how was the poem? Did you get the legend behind it? The legend of Bloody Mary and the game people play during Halloween? Well, since it’s not too long from All Hallow’s Eve, I shall be pestering you with more such spooky stuff.
Hope you liked the comeback. And if you didn’t, please bear with me while I retrieve my old awesomeness back.
So till the next time. Have fun and don’t call Bloody Mary. 😛