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Upon a blissful morning, you see,

a grave danger was approaching with glee.

A town once built would be destroyed,

and a mass murder heist would be deployed.

The unsuspecting town glittered with joy,

the ember lights a shadow puppet toy.

The kids on the street all made way

for the Tillingham Prophet to make his say.

“We are their next maul

if we don’t move by nightfall!”

He shouted and warned them

but all stood still, unworried as if to condemn.

The town was their home, they could not just leave.

They all thought him stupid, old, and naive.

“You cannot trick us as we are genuinely strong.

We’ll fight them to the death if it takes us that long!”

The prophet was stuck in a fluttering thought.

He looked down to his feet and said in distraught,

“Very well, you can stay.”

He stepped down from his stool and went well on his way.

But Jimmy, the kid, he’ll do what is right.

He thought, Jimmy, too, had the gift of foresight.

That, of all things, they believed was true.

“If we do not go now, this day we will rue!”

And away the boy bolted along side the man.

A bag, two apples, and a blade in hand.

One by one the townspeople went.

Behind, before, and beside the two gents.

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