The Writetober Project

A ghostly jester, with mirthful delight,

Spun tales of joyous horror 'neath the foyer of Clarice and Kur’s new home,

on a pale, watchful night.

But as twilight deepened,

the laughter hid into corners - calm and faint,
A terrifying, omnipresent whisper emerged, an echo, a plaint.

Then came the hour when joy turned to dread,
Dreams morphed to mere, impossible reveries—they all were shred!

In gossamer chains, worst fears hovered and stayed,
Between walls reined by puppets, their screams played.

But as eve rose, now as corpses, their love impossibly lingers,
In haunted halls, their spirits ‘twine their soft fingers.

Their love, a beacon in the depths of despair,
A flicker of warm, cozy, hope in the chill of the cursed air.

written by Zoe