Devil’s Play

By Zoe Moseler


The ruins cast shadows 

along the deserted hills,

with a scythe-shaped moon

reaching down upon

its victims.


No laughter or voices are

heard at this place for its residents 

have long since disappeared. 


On the cliff’s edge, you can

hear the ocean waves crashing,

the skeletons of countless

victims float upon its 

foamy broth. 


An orange glow is cast

upon the forgotten 

land as a single flame

flickers. It never burns out

nor will it ever for it signifies 

the fallen, the damned, and

the murderous.


This place is the devil’s,

his personal entertainment.

Demons dance upon the falling 

stone of castles long ago and

for one night a year, they may 

leave this sacred place


to add residence to the flaming 

gates and symphony of screams that 

occur when the doors are left open. 

Zoe Moseler was a student in Front Street Writers from 2017-2019