Old blood old woods
So often they are bound together
Cold stone cold bones
Under one is buried the other
Oaths made shapes fade
These lives will not go unremembered
Thick mist, roads twist
Into halls that hide our memories

silhouette rising in the distance
enshrined upon the pallid hill
Terror urged the intruder to turn
And still he moves to greet our gates

Then, the mansion came to life
And though the night was still and silent
The graves and gardens sighed
And the voices sounded for the first time.
The windows began to glow
As if expecting his arrival
And the doors, locked for years
Yawned wide at his coming

There is no turning back now
Within the candle-lights flicker
And the air seems dead
As the doors creak shut behind.

"Something tells me the haunting’s just begun . . ."

New silence in the halls
More shadows in the corridors
The candles flicker on the walls
And the wind wails through dead gardens
And as I watch her from the window
She seems to somehow come alive
A recurring dream or nightmare
Conceived by the house itself
Beauty both horrific and forlorn
Trapped behind the gates of stone
And the sight turned us both weak
When her glance met mine

One perfect hand plucked one perfect rose
crying harshly through her song
beautiful and devastated
as porcelain cracked upon a tombstone.
Cold blood in mortal veins
Seen through tattered drapery
Yet because of him I realize
None of us never truly left.