Despite being offered silver and gold, receiving threats brave and bold, The story of Molly Moore remains untold. Men fear the tale none lived to tell of a girl possessed by a demon of hell. No none will risk the witch girl’s spell. Have a seat here on the floor to hear the tale of Molly Moore, a dark tale like none before. A beautiful girl whose eyes did shine, a girl men found to be fair and fine. Her suitors formed a growing line.
Molly was out tending her sheep that were grazing the lands of old man Greep in the shadow of the hill we call “The Deep.” Without warning a storm hit the town. A flash flood knocked the girl violently down and swept her into a hole opening in the ground. Her family feared her lost in the flood , bits of homes and trees littered the mud. They found poor Molly half buried and covered with blood.
It took a fortnight for the girl to recover under the care of her loving Mother. None suspected the horror they’d soon discover. She soon began to answer voices only she could hear. Children ran when Molly came near, in everyone she met she inspired fear. Molly began to laugh at the graves of the recently deceased. The Father of the Church found she bore the Mark Of The Beast, Molly silenced him by seducing the Priest.
Her Mother fell to her knees to cry and beg The Lord help please. His response was the wind in the trees. This is where the story truly gets strange, to go beyond the normal range, as Molly Moore made a dark exchange. Her flesh began to crack and bleed. Her womanhood ached with evil need for darkness to plant its evil seed.
Molly began hunting for small game, she hunted the weak, she hunted the lame. She moaned and writhed in the air while she diddled herself without a care of those that may be standing there. Molly was caught one night by her terrified brother using a pillow to smother their screaming crying Mother. She moved away, she could go no further. Her girl was intent to violently hurt her or perhaps she’d be the victim of murder. No one stayed long save her brother Jack who never lost hope the old Molly would come back and banish this bitch with eyes so black.
Somehow Jack managed to cope. He kept his faith, he kept his hope, he lost both at the end of Molly’s rope. Down her spine a shot a delicious chill as she exorcised her evil will to make Jack her latest kill. Strangulation turned his poor face red. One fierce pull separated his head as his body bounced and shook upon the bed.
The village was outraged! This couldn’t go on! The girl is evil, the Devil’s spawn! We march on the Moore house at dawn! With pitchfork and torch in hand the townsfolk marched the predawn land. With God beside them they make their stand. With each torch thrown their cleansing fire burned higher. They danced and sang, an avenging choir as the Moore home was consumed with fire. Unfortunately they made a mistake with their damned pride, none had checked the home’s inside to ensure they indeed burned the Devil’s Bride.
The day dawned red with blood that began to spray from the throats of villagers trying to get away. Molly cut them down as the tried to pray. Molly licked the blood from her lips with a laugh. The town had become a sickening bloodbath that pleased her demonic master Thath. She felt free and wild. She had spilled the blood of every man woman and child. Never had innocents been so defiled.
Friends you may have one question as you sip your ale, one nagging little detail. If none survived how could I tell this tale? I suppose there is one thing I neglected to mention before she said as she locked the door. Come, gather close and meet Molly Moore.
