Devilishly Dreadful: Unholy Loopholes

---

---

I traveled with the crusader—
A young and lowly monk—
His large form covered with armor;
Before him all things shrunk.

Intimidation shook me strong—
I gave that to my Lord—
As we trod forc’fully along
Across scorched earth—rotting gourds.

Bolstered by the pure Gospel’s word—
Slave, obey thy master—
I clung to my holy duty,
Obeyed this knight faster.

Headed forward toward foreign soil—
Nearing our destiny—
I knew not to where we would go;
I bought his purity.

Granted, he could be a bit cold—
Cursing anger as vex—
Pillaging hopeless farmers’ fields,
Thrott’ling men’s lesser sex.

As we arrived at a rock crag—
Cloister loomed like a rook—
A grey turret spired high up;
There my legs really shook.

The turret badly maligned,
Inverted cross loopholes;
Still I did obey for Rome’s sake,
To see my holy goals.

Upon dismounting, the grim knight
Led us up and inside—
Deep inside where li’l light would hold—
Where rot and hell collide.

The air held the foulest rancor—
Moldering aged decay—
A horrid moan chilled me to bone.
Came wickedness our way.

It’s then I remembered the folks—
Superstitious they seemed—
They warned me not to follow here,
That I’d be unredeemed.

Too late to heed their dire warnings,
I stood there paralyzed—
A black shadow with a white face—
Forever traumatized.

Necrotic, yet moved with such speed,
The shape loomed quick above;
Oxblood fissures tore its face,
Onyx eyes devoid love.

A missing maw but for its jaw—
The ghastly shadow spoke—
Visibly clacking above its throat,
Words growled out with a horrid choke.

“Amen. Euer for, glory the
“and, yes, power the and,
“Kingdome the is thine for: euill…”
His words escaped like sand.

“from vs deliuer but,” he said,
“Temptation into not
“Vs lead and debtors our forgiue”
O God, the Lord’s Prayer’s rot!

No convent therein—Satan’s throne!—
The wraith’s voice crescendoed
Seizing ‘pon what leaves folk dead
And their spouses widowed.

The dark knight lifted his helmet—
The grotesque voice went on—
His hair a deep mahogany
With streaks of golden dawn.

“We as, debts our vs forgiue and.
Bread daily our day this…”
I could not stand the noise thenceforth,
Yet stuck in the abyss!

“Heauen in is it as, earth in…”
Woe! Something I heard there shifted…
“Done be will thy, come kingdome thy.”
Behind him a woman—gifted—

Was mouthing incantation spells.
“Name the be hallow-ed.
“Heauen in art which father Our.”
The words were follow-ed

By a long, maniacal laugh.
The knight and the specter
Merged body and soul into one—
The ghost and collector.

There, before my eyes, I did see
Richard—Lion-hearted—
Now a shade of Satan;
Soul sold—Christ departed.

The two became of one accord—
Frost biting at my heart—
Here my shade sits, waiting for you
To play your own blind part.

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.

Tittu

Poet’s Note:
For Macabre Monday. This is the second part in my series, Devilishly Dreadful.

Drawing from the 1840s penny dreadful, The Black Monk; or, The Secret of the Grey Turret, this poem plummets faith into shadow, where cloisters conceal rot and even the Lord’s Prayer collapses into corruption. In true dreadful fashion, sacred symbols unravel, and horror rises in the void left in the wake