Yellowind

Sit down please and have some tea.
Do not you mind a fairytale?
That, actually, appears to be
a legend from some distant dale...

There lived, they say, a wicked man.
That's not a very fairy start,
but that's the way this tale began.
So, lived a man with cruel heart,

His name was Yellowind, I think.
Oh no, that's surname. Jack's the name.
He always had an awful stink
of rot, determining his fame.

Though he looked noble, hat and suit,
his manor was quite nice and clean,
and very big. And hearing flute
while passing by was a routine.

And once whilst dark and stormy night
a dreadful shriek was heared at his.
Then thunder struck and deathly light
from windows shone. Ah, frightful 'tis!

In moment manor disappeared
and Yellowind'd been never seen.
Though lands of his are still quite feared,
as if they're in some way obscene...


So, how's your tea, my dear guest?
Another cup's here, if you will.
And story? It is not the best?
That's just a start! Now sit and chill...

A couple centuries has passed
another story hit the world.
It wasn't, actually, that vast,
just local murder of a sort.

A house in the Oldton Hills
was bought by couple with a kid.
The deal was made, they paid the bills,
but soon they all regretted it...

The father found an ancient book
and dropped some blood on opened page.
His mind was crooked, he quickly took
a rake and killed his kin in rage.

Realization was quite quick.
He made a loop and hanged himself.
Police concluded he was sick
and put that book back on its shelf.

Ironicly, their surname's Rake.
As if the Fate there sat and grinned...
And — I can swear it's not a fake! —
The seller's name's Jack Yellowind!


The tea is cold now, I suppose.
Another cup then, here we go...
So, did some mysteries expose?
And are there things you want to know?

A man with only holes in purse
but rich with energy and mind
began his searches of this curse
as he could stop it, he opined.

He asked all villagers he found:
'It's Yellowind', the answer was.
He asked police, they were aground:
'He was insane, that is the cause'.

It didn't stop our brave explorer,
so he went out in the hills.
He reached the place where all that horror
Came into being with those kills.

The house was there, with doors unlocked.
The man came in and reached the shelf.
The book, then second... He was shocked!
Those cults! He really had to delve...

His nose, unfortunately, bled,
some drops fell down on a page...
He didn't kill, oh no, instead
he went into the cultists' cage.


His fate was horrible since that.
Those bloody rituals, you know...
And how's the tea? You call me 'brat'?
You cannot move? And thoughts are slow?

What were you thinking of, my dear,
whilst passing by a yellow house
in windy hills. Oh, is that clear?
The rite is close, put on this blouse.

Oh, some more questions, by the way.
The person reading this, what's up?
You sure your health is all OK?
And do you know what's in your cup?