A night of illusions and dreams in the realm of nowhere,
Where shadows crept, and whispers filled the still, damp air.
The moon hung low, a pale ghost in the starry sky,
Casting spectral light on graves long and dry.
Winds howled like banshees through trees long dead,
Their gnarled branches reached, filled with dread.
Crimson leaves scattered in the night,
Cloaked in darkness, absent of light.
A night of illusions, where reality frayed,
Through twisted paths, a figure strayed.
Each step grew heavier, like feet carved from stone,
The ground below whined, archaic and cold as bone.
Eyes glowed from hollows, hidden in the darkness,
Watching every move, waiting to strike, heartless.
A chill crept down each spine, freezing all breath,
The air was thick with decay, the scent of death.
In the distance, a chapel, broken and bleak,
Its doors cracked open with a hollow creak.
It beckoned, its silence heavy with dread,
Inside, only wails of the forsaken dead.
Candles flickered, faint embers on the wall,
Casting eerie shadows, giants dark and tall.
The silence screamed louder than any sound,
As knees touched the cold, stone ground.
The wind seemed to whisper a forgotten name,
A soul trapped forever in a cold, endless flame.
Cobwebs clung to the altar, brittle and old,
Where stories of sorrow and death had been told.
Mysterious figures appeared, cloaked in tattered black,
Their hollow gaze stared a shadow at the back.
They beckoned forward into the abyss,
Promising solace with ghostly grimaces.
A night of illusions and nightmares, an entranced and silent visitation,
As mist gathered thickly, a mournful pall.
Deeper ghouls went through crypts of stone,
Where no heart had beat, no seed had been sown.
A voice whispered, soft and clear,
“Welcome to your fate; you belong here.”
Esther Elizabeth Racah
