We entered here.
No harm meant,
Just food and warmth.
Dust, layers upon layers.
How were we to know?
Someone watching, lurking.
Red eyes always following.
Cobwebs in the face,
A creepy feeling in this place.
Bats and rats and roaches the size of candy bars.
Ryack gagged at the rotting food left out.
Finally, a fireplace.
Under its warm, heavenly glow,
We dined on food through running low.
We laughed and joked not knowing, not knowing
Something moved behind these walls.
A creature of fright,
Of eternal night,
Hands made of ectoplasm.
Hungry for souls, it waited.
I wished to rest.
Aleya wanted to read.
Ryack left for parts his own,
One by one we fell to the traps
Placed by our spectral host.
Now we wait,
In dungeon cold,
As the phantom cook
Prepares his meal of old.
The phantasm stopped and stared at me for a moment as I finished my poem. Aleya and Ryack had big smiles across their faces.
The phantom floated over to us. “What was that?” he asked in an echoing voice. “Why do you smile?”
“Because our wizard friend,” Aleya nodded towards me, “just finished his spell.”
Suddenly the room seemed to darken. The shadows began to stretch and drip. They began to form into unknown creatures of a mist-like substance.
“No!” the phantom screamed as the shadows took hold of him. “NO!” he continued to scream as the shadows pulled him into the wall.
The room then brightened and the sudden silence was unsettling. With the spook gone, the dungeon cell opened.
“Let’s go before anyone else shows up,” Aleya said.
“Good plan,” I said.