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The Old Dark House
This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing both worlds together until the break of dawn. Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured, The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil “Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul! The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy! Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts, ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives. Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil, far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty God Himself. Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark presence and ultimate tempter of mankind! The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind! Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to suit one’s human fears and cold shivers! I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied! I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of Nowhere and Nothingness! Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening, a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty, hope, kindness, and light. These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh! Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take! I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity! Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell! I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil. These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil when taken as a whole. What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does! I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and redemption! As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal existence here on earth. Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry! Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House! Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved September 7, 2016 (Narrative)
Copyright © 2020 liam mcdaid. All Rights Reserved