Turn the Page
Dark shadows cling and unease fills the air,
As wooden boards creak on dilapidated stair.
Blood stains soaked into floors and walls;
Forgotten spirits wander once elegant halls.
Horrific deeds of passion, murder, and greed;
Planted in this house like an unholy seed.
Abandoned by the living many long years ago;
Yet the house remembers, and festering evil may grow.
Like calls to like, as the house welcomes new tenants;
To twisted spirits and ghouls, years pass like minutes.
The house's spirit has warped, no longer welcoming and warm;
Now terror and nightmares have become the norm.
Not all spirits are housed in bodies of flesh;
Once living wood with psychic forces may mesh.
Spirits are real, both the living and the dead;
So consider this thought, when choosing your bed.