The Valley of Horror

the valley of horror On my way to the shops in the charming one horse town called Benafim, I took a shortcut through a narrow valley like a mensur scar in a high ranking German officer’s cheek When down, I regretted my rash idea, airless and still no birds sang there, and no rabbits crossed the path sharp floret bushes ominously murmured veiled threats The trees were pale and long since deceased. The sun didn’t reach fully here; deep shadows were dark, murderous spooks waited, the soil was rusty the blood of those who didn’t find the way out. I froze and sweated, the track appeared endless and my dog had disappeared. Finally, at the exit, I ran the last 50 meters, the dog waited for me, sensible she had taken the old road. I was told by the villagers no one walked the there a massacre from a war forgotten the evil continued.