Bye and bye, the windswept trees,
grew o'er the stilled-fell waters,
and in crept darkness
to sour the knells
that beamed from distant
A grant of nights forbidden dreams
pass o'er the hellsung chants, to breath
drew horrid this dark house rotten.
Screams and moans,
born this haunt's advent torture,
torments seeth in every crack
and bleeds in every corner,
for every wraith in Willow town
is spawn of witch's laughter.
Send private anonymous feedback to the author (to post a public comment instead).