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4 min read

Tune

Author since 2015 2Stories 0 Followers
Tune

At about the age of ten,
I saw him once but not again.
The man who came from out of town,
The man who wore the blood-soaked crown.

It was the night of Friday eve,
Which from my bed I did not leave.
Out my window I stole a glance,
And saw him there just by chance.

He was tall and thin and made of dark,
His mere presence made dogs bark.
For from his shape he whistled high,
A tune so eerie I can’t deny.

He slinked and stepped along the street,
The sound of sloshing at his feet.
A trail of crimson lay behind,
His next victim he was to find.

He grabbed a blade and on his arm,
He carved a line into a charm.
It was how he kept his body count,
Which looked high from the amount.

A small boy play in a park nearby,
With lots of laughter and a joyful cry.
Then the man turned to him,
A deep grey shadow for a grin.

His face had no features that I could see,
Just deep indents where they would be.
His smile grew wide I must confess,
But nothing prepared me for what was next.

He moved into a jog towards the boy,
Then the child dropped his toy.
He screamed for help but no one came,
He called “Mum! Dad!” and then a name.

A name I had not heard before,
But had seen a few times or maybe more.
It was a name that inspired fear,
But what the hell was he doing here?

He was the stuff of myth, of tales to scare,
With bloodstained clothes and matted hair.
I pressed my face to the glass,
And saw how long the boy did last.

It wasn’t long, in fact was quick,
The boy’s blood was red and thick.
Then the man raised him up high,
The figure then squeezed him dry.

He never stopped his whistled song,
He tapped his foot and swayed along.
As if it were just a show,
His smile did begin to grow.
The blood it ran like a stream,
The cool night air made it steam.
He threw the body to the ground,
It did not move or make a sound.

The boy was dead but he wasn’t done,
The figure laughed as though it were fun.
He pulled a saw and began to cut,
Not the head just everything but.

It wasn’t til he had done his task,
That the man began to laugh.
He threw the bits around the park,
But by this time it was getting dark.

I could not see what happened next,
I just ran over to my desk.
His noise grew loud and from what I could hear,
Was almost whispered in my ear.

It was out of rhythm and made me scared.
And what came next I was not prepared.
On my window I heard a tap,
I looked over and he looked back.

His face was pale as pale could be,
And then he pointed straight at me.
The window opened without a noise,
Blood was dripping, it was the boy’s.

It would seem he wants his tale to be told,
With his skin so pale and his clothes of old.
I sit here writing as he watches,
And on his charm he’s carving notches.

I am aware that he can see
The words I write in front of me.
I hope he decides to show remorse,
Wishful thinking on my part of course.

If you find this and read it through,
I hope he does not come for you.
His legend is his way he moves,
The bloody trail of his shoes.

In stories and songs you’ll find him there,
Please make sure you are prepared.
For if you hear his offbeat tune,
Then he might be after you.

He has his hand upon my shoulder,
The room was warm but now is colder.
I must end this tale of him,
The story of the bloodied king.

At about the age of ten,
I saw him once but not again.
The man who came from out of town,
The man… who wore… the blood-soaked… crown.

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Darkdemon4148 avatar
Darkdemon4148
5 months ago

I sang this as rap and this is honestly fire.

HayliAnderson
HayliAnderson
6 years ago

What? Hmmmmmmm…….

TheCardDealer avatar
TheCardDealer
6 years ago

Why do I love this?!

M
mdp7413love
6 years ago

I started reading it at loud but went silent after awhile.

Cassidy avatar
Cassidy
6 years ago

A lot of the lines seemed forced, messing up the flow of the story. Like certain lines and words are only there so the previous line has something to rhyme with.

Sometimes it’s better for a poem to not have perfect rhymes.

I’m negative, I naturally pick up on flaws. Sry

PancakeWaffleQueen
PancakeWaffleQueen
6 years ago

Am I the only one who thinks creepy heartless killers like this would be cute anime dudes?

AHABIT
AHABIT
6 years ago

I love it! My only critique is that the meter was a little off in some stanzas, but the poem itself was interesting and enjoyable with wonderful imagery!

J
Justamom
7 years ago

Quite a creepypasta. Very intriguing. Good job writer.

J
jayvan
7 years ago

5/5. Keep writing. Keep refining your art.

Spooky_jezza
Spooky_jezza
7 years ago

i reeaaally enjoyed reading this alot more fun than others probably because it was a poem but i need to ask [spoiler] was it slendy? [/spoiler]

SH
SH
8 years ago

Was this supposed to be Victor Zsasz? :”D

D
DarkHideki666
8 years ago

Have to admit this poem is good. And dark.

N.A. avatar
N.A.
8 years ago

Why was a kid playing in the park at night? Because plot convenience?

IUHoosiersFan
IUHoosiersFan
8 years ago

That was…bland. Unoriginal and a tad trite. It’s poetry, so I can understand how the gimmick carries it to popularity, but the language is so forced and cheesy.

MareckProductions avatar
MareckProductions
8 years ago

Amazing Story there !
Made a video out of it and of course left a link to here.
If someone wants to check it out heres the link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jo1kwhwhK9c

JackFrostTruefrost avatar
JackFrostTruefrost
8 years ago

OH GOD IM 17!!

JackFrostTruefrost avatar
JackFrostTruefrost
8 years ago

I truthfully thought the writer was describing slender man but when said bloody crown i thought what?

M
MotherMurder
8 years ago

It was pretty good, the poem idea was original but it was a bit tedious to read rhyming words all the way through, but good I rate 10/10

Lione.SD. avatar
Lione.SD.
8 years ago

ok im am the bloody swordsman i get it but i don’t go around killing people infact i make myself bleed so i’m stained red of blood