A group of people who tested fate |
Up the hill of darkness we walked inclined to submit our fate by the works of our hands was this voyage planned and we didn't expect to be late. Our wives and daughters and all the young lads were left behind in the dust we could not explain this sorrowful rain that dampened their rooted trust. In single file, we marched on with scraps of paper clenched tight the fates were sealed in the scraps concealed as we climbed with all of our might. At the crest of the hill, we beheld a light that shined with a dark remain it came from a well that was under a bell which swayed as if it were pained. We approached the Well of Wistful Wishes with the names of many held fast any names that were written on the scraps were smitten if into the deep they were cast. At the turn of the decade, this march was had through the hills covered in sludge the names were those who had given us woes from which we held some grudge. We gazed at each other from around the Well nobody wanting to be first we decided together and threw our slips into the nether and watched them with lips that were pursed. The papers faded from within our sight as the air became still and dead suddenly the bell rang like a creation from hell that resounded throughout our heads. The dark light that came from the Well became strong and seemingly alive by a voice that was deep were the names to be reaped called out as we all lost our lives. |