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The Old Forsaken Wood

- The Old Forsaken Wood -

In the forests of the northlands, where oaken groves grow wild,
There was a place in one such wood, a place as yet undefiled.
Amidst the ancient stones hewn mightily of old, of carven rock…
By the men now lying all in barrows cold, whom every age forgot:
There was a place of gatherings, where dark faeries oft did play.
A tomb was there, of another era past; it ne’er saw light or day!
A man once came upon the gray site, wandering far from home,
Following the mad guidance of some lost and antiquated tome.

He lingered long at the gathering place, but nary a spirit came,
Soon the night’s cold air did necessitate the making of a flame.
And at the fire by his plain tent, the man looked about in fear…
For midnight’s hour was falling fast, and something drew near.
A shape was moving, black against darkness and velvet mists,
Until at last he heard a weird sound, like when a serpent hissed.
It did cease, and in its’ place a woman’s voice thereafter cried:
Come away with me, ye lonely man, sadness cannot be denied!

I have neither loved ones nor family, ‘tis true, but what be ye?
The man pursued his sad inquiry, but kept by light so watchfully.
Am I daft, he wondered, for no answer issued forth to so hear!
Until she so cried, again: lonely man, come to me, draw ye near.
He kept to his fire, looking at the shadowy form fast coming to,
Coming yet closer, ever closer: still indistinct of a definitive hue.
I am that in which all sorrow and solitude end, for I am bliss…
Come unto me, dear lonely man, and feel the tingle of my kiss.

Why do I not see thee, thou seem black and faded as all about!
The man felt a chill beyond that in the air, as he thusly did shout.
Leave the glow of the firelight, and my form ye shall swiftly see,
Leave ye the warmth of the flame, and join ye in my company.
Near the mouth of the tomb, I wait for thee, to by me so stand…
Near the yawning mouth of the tomb, that lies so close at hand.
Lo, there the fair folk sing, and dance to their ease in a revelry!
Know ye where the ravens take wing, and sprites flit peacefully.

The man followed the wraith unto the tomb, so darkly wrapped,
In greater obscurity than before: here, wherein the dead so slept.
Other shapes were with him now, men and women it did seem…
More clear than their surroundings, aglow with an ethereal gleam.
Will o’ the wisps as well abounded, and then he turned to look…
To behold his guide unto this wonder, whose advice he just took.
The boy with a woman’s voice was pale of skin and red of eye…
But lovely, oh so lovely, as the man drew on closer, only to die.
The next morning, villagers found him, drained of all his blood…
Ne’er again did a man alone set foot in that old forsaken wood!
Written by Kou_Indigo (Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
Published
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