The monstrous castle looms,
enormous it stands, this ancient tomb.
Silhouetted against the moon,
air thick with the frosty chill of doom.
A skeletal coach with horses of white
appearing through the darkness of night,
to take him the rest of the way.
Through the swirling mists of grey.
Up high in the mountainous landscape,
clouds billowing, to make hard his escape.
Sweat trickling down the spine,
anxiety singing a chorus line.
But on he goes,
across the craggy land,
through the settled snow,
past the dead trees
and flowers that never seem to grow.
Behind, the road vanishes into the mist,
but he has no time for fear,
for here, in front looms the doorway
that haunts his dreams.
The doorway that brings those midnight screams.
The doorway to the vampire’s unholy lair.
A sigh, as he knows time isn't on his side
the moon is sitting full in the blood red sky.
The door creaks open, but no-one is there,
a cavernous hallway,
one lone candle lights the air.
The stairway, in so many dreams this has been seen,
In so many nightmares these labyrinthine corridors he has walked between.
The outlook is grim
here in front of him,
for this is no dream state
and no alarm will wake him from his fate.
He runs through the alleys of gothic furnishing,
the darkness around enveloping, confirming his fears.
He hears murmurings, echoing, menacing.
In the town below the church bells ring,
singing out their death knells
as the bats are circling.
Dead end, dead ahead,
a giant mirror covered in cobwebs,
resembling tiny cracks
just his reflection staring back.
But he feels a presence behind,
lurking in the dark,
he tries to turn,
but as quick as a shark
a stab in the neck,
two pinpricks of red.
In an instant his jugular is bled.
Stale coppery breath lingers in the air,
The faintness of death,
the last moment of his nightmare.
With his last look he sees the man,
blood trickling from his lips.
His vision blurs, and into darkness he slips.
Thanks For Reading,
Peace, Love and Poetry.
Kyle
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