I sit quiet and alone in my candlelit chambers,
long lifeless fingers rapping out a slow timeless melody,
upon the old black baby grand piano,
fondly recalling how their frightened screams echoed through the woods,
on that cold moonless night all those centuries ago.
A smile creeps across my cruel bloodless lips,
as I fondly remember that frosty dark night,
when I first strolled down those damp cobblestone streets,
my footsteps echoing eerily through the tired old village,
my only company the pale light of the lanterns hung upon the doorposts.
I happily recall the haunting chimes of the old church bells,
at the first stroke of midnight,
in my mind's fertile eye i see the skeletal fingers of the oak trees,
as they waved to me on that dark night,
most of all I fondly remember the shimmering mist,
as it drifted silently over the sleeping village,
carrying upon it the sweet scent of freshly spilled blood,
that great night that I was reborn into darkness.
Donavon Scott Vinson
