Stick Creature Attack
There’s a town in the mountains near Kiersey peak
Where waterfall fountains spritz like a leak
They spritz right out from the mountainside
It’s the town of Loggerton, where the Loggers live
They chop down the trees that the forests give
The forests where the creatures hide
Every Logger’s home was made of logs
And every Logger had at least three dogs
It was the Logger way
Those Logger dogs explored and did tricks
But they were especially great at chasing sticks
Fetch was their favorite game to play
In those Alpine woods the Wretch could be found
Like the trees themselves, he grew from the ground
Living in the shadows, growing and lurking
He’s made of sticks and logs, tree trunks and timber
He prowls through the forest, lanky and limber
Watching the Loggers as they were working
Loggers were stealing trees, it was forest theft
Soon enough there would be none left.
The Wretch had to act, and it had to be soon
One night, where the forest cleared
The Woodland Wretch swiftly appeared.
Through scattered shadows of a clouded moon
That beast made of trees, every stick and branch
Roared down the mountain like an avalanche
He’d attack the Loggers and crush their town
The dogs heard noise and began to bark
Loggers with axes ran through the dark
To chop the monster down
The Loggers chopped, the Loggers sawed
The Wretch chomped, the Wretch clawed
Tossing Loggers, as if he was juggling
As sawdust and shavings filled the skies
The Loggers carved the beast down in size
The Wretch was strong, but soon was struggling
The beast was shattered, carved and peeled
Leaving sticks scattered all over the field
Until there was no more beast remaining
After battling for 5 hours straight
The Loggers marched home to celebrate
With a feast and entertaining
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As the Loggers left, the dogs stayed behind
To gather all the sticks that they could find
The remains of the woodland Wretch.
They took them back to their neighborhood
They were good fetching dogs just being good
As if they were playing fetch.
Piece by piece they brought back the beast
One stick at a time, the pile increased
They’d gathered each stick that scattered and spread.
As the pile grew, more and more
The sticks came together, as they were before
The woodland Wretch came back from the dead
Right there, in the village square
With all the Loggers unaware
Stood the Woodland Wretch, as good as new
The Wretch attacked from the inside out
Along alley’s and streets in a winding route
Gobbling villagers as he went through
He pounded on homes as if they were drums
Until the town crumbled into town crumbs
He snacked on Loggers that got in his way.
The Loggers had no chance to stop the pillage
As the Wretch danced on top of their village
The town of Loggerton fell that day.
As the sun woke, the Wretch crept home
Through clouds of smoke as thick as foam
Leaving Loggerton in crumbled remains
The villagers scattered as Loggerton burned
Once they left they never returned
They moved from the woods to live in the plains
A new type of village has since been built
Where Loggerton ruins wobble and tilt
They tilt with each passing breeze
The homes now are made of brick and stone
The villagers leave the forest alone
They stay away from the trees.
The dogs nowadays, same as before
Still play games and they still explore
But they’re weary of the Woodland Wretch
There’s a new rule, the law of the land
That villagers and dogs both understand
They are never, ever allowed to play fetch