In the still of night, when all seems calm,
A chilling breeze carries a hidden psalm,
From ancient woods, where moonlight weeps,
Dark secrets wake from their restless sleeps.
The shadows stretch with fingers thin,
Their whispers crawl beneath the skin,
A creaking door, a whispered name,
An unseen force begins its game.
Footsteps echo, but no one's there,
Eyes wide open, a vacant stare,
The walls close in, the air turns cold,
A haunted tale begins to unfold.
A flickering light, a distant scream,
Is this real, or just a dream?
The darkness laughs, a cruel jest,
As fear tightens its icy vest.
Yet through the dread, a voice remains,
A silent cry, bound in chains,
For in the shadows, horrors lie,
But courage dares to ask them why.
In the end, when dawn breaks through,
The night retreats, the terror too,
But in the heart, the whispers stay,
A reminder of the shadows' play.
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