Be Still My Soul
The beast crawled up from the depths of the earth. Blacker than the darkness, eyes like oil; a maw dripping with old blood. It snatched them up, one by one, pale little babes soft and screeching.
Locked them away in a bramble-bone cage; where they flitted and scrabbled for freedom. Close to its home, close to its heart. It would come to them, one by one, plucking them up as it hungered. Ever hushing "Be Still My Soul"; before devouring them whole.
One little soul refused to be still, eyes streaked with ashen tears, flesh colored of moonlight. She waited, waited, until the beast came again. Until it came to pluck her up by the tail. She wailed staring down into death, she fought; she fled.
The great beast called out, mocking in it's terrible laughter; ever a hungry whisper at her back "Run, run, faster than death, never will I let My Soul rest!"