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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Dim light shines through the widows of the old house long since empty, where only dust dances in the air and a lone mouse scurries across its scared and dirty floor But sometimes at night, when a lonely wind moans and cries faint echoes of the past are heard through out the rooms as though while sleeping, the old house dreams of a lost time In the parlor, a faint ticking from a wall clock as it counts time while a childs laughter is heard as he runs through the house chasing after the ghostly bark of a dog as it runs from room to room and in the dark unused kitchen, the scent of fried chicken fills the air recalling Sunday dinners and happier times, before the dying cries the screams that echoed, and bright blood stained its polished floors Now, all that is left is a faint red stain on its once prestine floors broken and rotting from the wear of mother nature and passage of time where the only true sound heard is a crows harsh and croaking cries as it flies over the delapatated but once proud and stately house leaving behind one black as soot feather floating in the warm air to land on a window sill, as though looking in at the cold lifeless rooms But still the house stands against time, and listened to each of its rooms hoping to hear laughter once more, hurried steps across its wood floors trying to shut out the screams of terror that still hang in the stale air the feelings of hate, and anger that never seemed to disapate with time pushing at the heart and soul, the very timbers of the sad and lonely house until each small breeze that swirled around it sounded like broken cries It doesn't know why the last sounds within its walls where terror stricken cries or why the sounds of childrens laughter are no longer heard within its rooms it only knows that it took one single day to make of it a horror house all dead and empty with blood stains upon its dirt encrasted floors held within an eternity that seemed to stop within a tick of time and lingers there upon a breath of stale and purtrid air Not so long ago, it stood so tall with pride and stately air but rumors stirred with tales of ghostly lights and muted cries till none would stand upon its floors or stay a minutes time for all would tell of ghosts and such that walked its haunted rooms and blood that stained for all of time its wooden floors Such a sad and forlorn air that haunts its each and ever room that now wrings cries of sorrow from the rotted creaking floors Where once apon a time there stood a loved and happy house
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