A lurid mansion on a dark hill,
Submerged in murky air so still,
Seems to almost draw me to it's dark designs.
Anything alive within must be very ill.
How could one possibly be well,
Residing in a home with death as it's shell?
That's not to say there IS anything alive,
The only entities must be spirits who, from their corporal being, fell.
Against my gut, I enter the wretched place,
And I'm soon greeted by a grim statue with an agonized looking face.
The paintings on the wall seem to stare,
As my heart rapidly begins to race.
The ghostliness does not seem to even be of this earth,
Along with the eerie red glow protruding from the hearth,
Makes for an atmosphere that causes my lips to tighten in angst.
Not to mention my breathing, of which there is a dearth.
I feel I must get out of here,
Especially since I hear a faint moaning in my ear.
But I'm afraid I can't,
For my muscles are locked tight with fear.
From the corner of my eye, I suddenly see,
A round, puffy, white thing floating next to me.
I turn slowly so as to get a better look,
As I do, I think softly "A ghost? No, it can't be..."
But sure enough, it turns around,
With a gleeful cackle, and no feet on the ground.
I then become witness to a spooky sight,
A face with glowing red eyes, and a pointy grin with fangs abound.
Atop it's head, there sat a small crown,
Topped with a jewel, and a golden brown.
More detail I am unable to explain,
For it lunged at me, and I ran back to town.
And thus ended my tale of fright,
As I sprinted anxiously into the night.
I don't recommend ever going into that chateau,
Unless, with ghostly dead friends, you're alright.