The Witch of Dead End

Oh girl of so little faith, come dance with the ghosts of your past.
They sing of places that live only in you head, hailing only to the monsters under the bed.
Fools gold in fairy circles.
Run.
The open feilds, dark forests, Dead End calls. The villigars with slack toungs and ever pearing eyes, curtain twitchers.
Ignore them, they have hate in their blood.
Blood that is about to be spilt.
Run.

What is God to a non-beleiver?