Wicker Man Sequel II:
Afterlife, 1974
He goes quietly -
Too quietly, in fact.
Eyes downcast, he is sullen,
Resigned,
Relieved.
No struggle,
No frenzied pleas,
No execrations,
No desperate screams -
Even the animals
Fall silent.
Such an anticlimax, some
Dare say.
We are leaderless.
Later that year, a
Plummy-voiced fugitive with
Caddish moustache offers to be
Our Laird. But we’re a religious people -
We don’t do murder here, and won’t
Countenance spouse killers. And, to
Be honest, we’re sick of the
Notoriety.
In fact, everything becomes an
Anticlimax: the
Unrelenting waves of
Orgy,
Feasting,
Carousing,
Innuendo,
Bawdy song,
Ritual mirth,
Communal rejoicing.
We seek the sublime
Thrill of transgression – that
Dire-edged, dark delight made
Keener by the dread of
Censure and chastisement.
Our Christian neighbours revel in it:
Shame-filled, knee-trembler sex in barns,
Caves, cubicles, hallways, back alleys;
Shebeens, whisky bothies,
Gambling dens – skulking, winking
Furtively at bored menfolk on the
Sabbath;
Malicious gossip about the
Manse family.
As if divining our silent prayer, a large
Consignment of oatcakes arrives from a
Nearby island.
Brittle, friable biscuits –
Hebridean fortune cookies
Revealing
Aphoristic Bible
Quotes that promise
Hellfire and damnation with a
Faint chance of
Salvation.
We shudder in
Anticipation.
©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
🙏 @thewombwellrainbow.bsky.social as host of #PromptCombo - my perverse take on #Allowed 😁
#poem: ©Jan Peters/Solivagant Wisdom, 2025
#FanFiction #TheWickerMan #LordSummerisle #LordLucan #FolkHorror #poetrycommunity #Satire #Parody