Late Show

Dusk has fallen. Bare trees, bent and twisted,
Reach their gnarled fingers toward the full moon.
Nervously I walk along the shoreline,
Jerking my head at every creak and wail.
Is it just the wind… or maybe something worse?
Then they strike – hordes of tiny bloodsuckers,
Driven by relentless hunger. I struggle
But it’s no use; another victim falls to
Their bloodlust. Come morning, the mutation
Will be complete; deformed by the mosquitoes’
Venom, I’ll be a repulsive creature,
A pariah, condemned to frighten small
Children. I’d better find some Benadryl… FAST!