Welcome to the Gloomy Hollows of Spookinite Valley Est. Sept. 2012 Within the Shadow of Spookinite Valley Written by Benjamin Fouché There is a desolate place in which I hide; A land where all trespassers have surely died. Betwixt forgotten mountainsides in Vermont; Horrid histories and tragedies do haunt. Pumpkin patches strewn here and there over hills, Cornstalks stretch their slender arms—and their sound fills The cold October air whilst the dead wind gust Forewarns encroachers that there’s no one to trust. The neglected house with four, white great columns Tells a century old tale that is Solemn’s. And an Inn where the proprietor does keep Every guest and traveler who cannot sleep. Nightstalkers and fiends roam this bleak and grim vale, Whilst thunderclouds proclaim the forthcoming hail. “Why?” you ask, “do you hide in this baleful land? “Because,” I laugh, “I cannot meet your demand.” “Here alone is the solitude I cherish” “And if you should intrude here, you shall perish!” Return to Ghostly Poetry Next Poem Previous Poem

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