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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In the shadowed maw of the forest deep, Where whispers of the night do creep, There lies a tale, a chilling draft, That sends shivers down the spine, so deft. A cabin old, with windows like eyes, Staring into the abyss of skies, Stood silent, save for the wind's soft moan, In a clearing where no bird had flown. The walls, once warm with family cheer, Now echo with an unseen fear, For in this place, where laughter ceased, A darker presence was increased. A traveler, weary from the road, Seeking shelter from the night's cold brood, Pushed through the door, creaking, worn, Unaware of the terror he would spawn. The hearth was cold, the air was thick, A sense of dread, so sly and sick, He felt the past, the tales untold, Of souls that vanished in the cold. As dusk turned to a starless night, The traveler felt an eerie blight, A whisper soft, a breath, a sigh, A voice that seemed to crawl and cry. "Leave this place," it hissed and wept, "For in these walls, we hungrily kept, The essence of the lost, the dead, Feast upon your fear, your dread." The traveler, his heart a frantic beat, Felt the chill of phantom feet, A spectral dance, a ghostly throng, Circling him as if to prove him wrong. He sought to flee, to break the spell, But found the door would not compel, Trapped within the cabin's grip, His sanity began to slip. The air grew heavy, thick as soup, As shadows took the form of group, Of tormented souls, with eyes aglow, Reaching out from below. The traveler, in despair, did shout, "What do you want, these haunts about?" A voice then spoke, a raspy sound, "To join our dance, forever bound." The floorboards creaked, and the walls did bend, As if the very house would end, The traveler, with a final prayer, Felt the grasp of icy air. His scream was lost, absorbed by night, As he was pulled from mortal sight, Another soul to join the throng, In the cabin's horror, where he's drawn. Now heed this tale, ye who roam, Avoid the cabin, its dreadful home, For in the forest, dark and wild, Lieth a terror, most unsanctified. And so, the story ends, but not its tune, For under the haunted, silent moon, The cabin waits for one more soul, To complete its ghastly, grim role.
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