Welcome to the Gloomy Hollows of Spookinite Valley Est. Sept. 2012 Whence Comes the Eternal Night? Written by Benjamin Fouché The cold eve will fall beneath an orange hunter’s moon; At the time of which I speak, your fears shall be strewn. I know you’ve felt it deep within your soul, When lightning stuck the summit of the knoll. I have shed your worthless deceit and lies, Now watch as the sunshine of your day dies. When the wind shudders your house and ghost, You will know that there’s nothing left to boast. In the bright sunlight your deception grew tall; Now in darkness your crops shall wither and fall. The midnight wraith will release his scorching mirth As his kin arise from the dark, rich earth. Thus, jagged vines of pumpkins will crawl near, Consuming fantasies you once thought dear. For this is a nightmare from which there’s no escape. The midnight wraith’s fury will leave your mouth agape. Upon the vast chaos that unfolds throughout the lands, You shall learn that soon you will not be the one who stands. Return to Ghostly Poetry Next Poem Previous Poem

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