The night was still, the air was chill,
And I found myself alone on a hill.
The moon was hidden, the stars were gone,
And I felt like something was definitely wrong.

I heard a noise, a creaking sound,
And suddenly I felt I was no longer on the ground.
I looked around, but there was no one to see,
Yet I felt a presence, something eerie.

My heart raced, my breath caught in my throat,
As I saw a figure, like a ghostly coat.
Its eyes were black, its skin was pale,
And I knew in that moment that I was in for a tale.

The figure beckoned, and I felt compelled,
To follow it down, where it led.
Through the forest, and over the river,
I followed it on, and I began to shiver.

The path was dark, and the trees were thick,
And I knew that something was terribly sick.
The figure stopped, and it turned to me,
And I saw its face, twisted and glee.

It grinned at me, and it reached out a hand,
And I knew then that I was in its land.
I screamed, but no sound escaped my lips,
As it dragged me down, into the pits.

And now I'm lost, in this dark abyss,
With no way out, and no one to miss.
I hear its laughter, and its screams,
And I know that I'll never be seen.

So if you ever find yourself alone on a hill,
Beware the figure that beckons still.
For it will lead you down, to your own fate,
And you'll be trapped, in its hellish state.
© 𝓚.𝓖𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓪𝓭