And they shall return

Whispers of night,

deeper than the darkness,

swimming in the minds of men,

terrors that wait to run free.

They wait for the trigger,

the call to arms,

when they will be free,

breaking out in a splash of blood.

What hope may vanish them,

these creatures older than time,

that were old when God split land from water,

a trembling voice in descent?

And if they should make the water,

diving deep in search of brothers,

nestled in the arms of Dagon

they will rest,

And regain their strength,

they will wait until ready,

when they will crawl upon the land,

to consume all they touch.

© Emma Steel