The Haunted
There was opaqueness in the autumn air
Such light was ensnared,
Hidden, exposed and bare
When hollows halloaed affairs
In the Haunted Forest of Nowhere
Miss Amber,
Hardworking candor
In making apples sweeter
In the twilight hills with her Keeper
And her child, Weeper,
Lived in stagnation
Of demon lords and witch lore,
Self-beheld as October Saints in the cold moor.
Abruptly, still was the relentless flow
Of pretty birds, Keeper's whistle chirps,
Laughter of Weeper's munchkin,
And Amber's carving pumpkins
When all heard from down below
The highest of the highest pitch of note
In the opaque autumn air,
In the Haunted Forest of Nowhere
Came running, blood soaked Henry
And from behind, bloated Gendry
Maws agape, although they ate
Keeper's flesh was the most delightful taste.
Pitch of screams
And Weeper's weeps
Amber came to intervene,
With hardest of hardest bible
Blasted the Deads from their supper of flesh mead,
Collapsed on the peaceful ground,
Blood from the bible
Drip drop all around.
Like impatient stags,
Amber and Weeper ran away mad
Configuring to the situation,
They yet pertain to the limitation
Of too little in life
To die from a wounded bite.
Placid dusk makes them hide
The prey that they are define
Fear up to their necks,
Amber wishing it would've been her instead,
Guilty now that she once lay with a man in her marriage bed
And Weeper is a weep to shed.
In the last dimness in the autumn air,
Bloated Gendry awoke from his bible snare,
Sniffing hungrily like a limp dog
No, it wasn't the bloodshed of paper God,
It was the trailing of a recent mob.
Sweet and tender
Bloated Gendry could not remember
The last his appetite surrendered,
Stupor at his droppings that quite render.
Dumb and dead, his flesh craves another yet.
Another haunting is yet to be ensued
If Amber could keep her wits and her shoes,
And Weeper to not fall asleep any deeper,
For both to be on the move.
To a different cottage
Much stronger than the others found in
Concealed themselves in the midnight Bound Inns
Safe in their blankets
They pray to banish Satan
Until an eerie feeling sent Weeper peeking,
Sending him a dark chilling.
In the darkness, came an ashen face
Filled with malice and hate
With twisted fingers calling out his name,
Weeper paralyzed to meet his fate.
He sank under the blankets
Unto which he prayed.
Amber awoke to the nothing-ness of abstain
No Weeper's weeps or the mad sounding heap
Of the Deads keep and moaning disdain
Weeper went to pee, she thought appeased.
Until the shattering of glass and gun powder
Turned Amber to sour
Just hearing once more
The moaning war,
Hungry limp men in feast for human boar.
Amber left without a slightest glimpse behind
To see if Weeper was still inside.
Horror rang her core
Like church bells on judgment day.
She knew just what to rely on to keep her safe.
A witch with all wisdom of lore
Spell books to put to sore
And keep Amber bound from this dead war.
Just a breath away to knock
The air says mercy
Until the world held its breath on the dot
When Amber fell into her pit,
Gashed wounds and arteries spit
Her fate was perhaps the worst
For a thirst, died in disemboweled form.
Such hauntings follow the sins
Of those who adore life
In the autumn opaqueness filled with brim,
It came from the Haunted Forest of casted sins.
