The Planet’s Curse.

Photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash

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Written on my IPhone, this is based on today’s prompt for The Halls of Pandemonium — which is being run by Bradley Ramsey. Please enjoy!

The Planet’s Curse.

When we took this job,
Our crew didn’t know what
To expect.

“A simple mining job,”
Our contractor offered,
“Just clear out a tunnel

For us, should be easy.”
But the craft of carving
Out rock and stone is
Anything but.

Still, we carried on, day
By day, against wretched
Heat and coughing up
The coal our picks touch.

All until this.
Screams, followed by
The soft putt of their
Hats hitting the ground.

Followed by silence
Where each once stood.

“G- guys?” I can feel
The crack in my voice,
Anxiety hammering my
Chest and throat.

No one responded.

Except, the light from my
Headband starts to waver,
Beam crackling off and on.

Followed by darkness,
Followed by the talon on
My throat.

A slimy, but sharp claw
Driving itself inward,
No time to react.

I gasp as my throat is ripped,
Blood spewing everywhere,
And… my head torn straight
Off its socket, bone crackling
As it flies up into the air.

Terror fills me, but death
Never arrives.

The creature carries me
Far, somewhere in the darkness
Till we stop at a bright circle,
Where the heads of my crew
Lay waiting at star-points.

“Ty,” one screams, “what the—“
But the creature shrieks, drowning
Out his response.

Followed by weird sounds,
As if an incantation is being said.

And for a moment nothing happens,
Until a mysterious aura erupts,
Flying straight into each of us.

Knowledge erupting, understanding
Becoming clear — I now know why
This must happen.

The world has overgrown itself
With evil, and we?

Our role is to save it, not as humans,
But as pawns, as henchmen….

As demons.

Hazel Allen, 2026.