When I saw the verdant meadow,
a field of dense green,
fog that hung low to the ground,
I understood.
With the cold moonlight,
with each gap in the clouds,
a mystery was uncovered.
The strange house.
Too afraid to approach.
Too afraid to go in.
A warm, cunning light,
sliding gracefully between wooden boards,
knows no bounds,
fades off into the fog,
an ending I can not see.
Nevertheless,
I look for an ending,
a simple shadow on a dot of light,
a hope for a clue to what is inside.
But, the only end is in my eye.
The damp grass is slick,
my shoes know no grip,
I walk slowly towards thee.
This unknown house,
with unknown occupant,
with unknown purpose,
with unknown intent.
A sound is muttered,
not by mouth of man,
but by the creaking wood...
An eerie coldness,
shoots down my spine,
perhaps my pace is too brisk.
For, truly, what knowledge gained,
would be worth potential death?
What knowledge gained,
would be worth the mystery?
Intrigued and curious
I decide to stay.
And from this house...
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