Accursed Land



a place of infamy/retribution

A crow sits atop a crumbling headstone

Soulless eyes, black and motionless

The shadow of Death

The harbinger of things to come

Dusk's descent arrives swiftly

Turning day into night in the blink of an eye

An old mort-house stands in silence

Keeper of the dead, protector of souls

This place of restless sleep

Barren and spoiled

I stand like a pitiful fool, rigid with fear

Surrounded by archaic gravestones

Accursed land

Soused in mist

I deliberate

Remembering the stories from my childhood

About the people who were laid here to rest

Unsavoury clientele

Deviant minds

The world's worst

There is profound wrongness here

The reek of decay

The pungent stench of rotten vegetation

Where shrubbery overflows

Flowers that refuse to bloom

Weeds and nettles, razor sharp branches

Plunged into the putrefied earth

The sulphurous hard ground

Where reviled cadavers lie

An ancient kirk stands yonder

Crumbling and vacant

A place revoked by righteous hands

Christian verse spat upon

Infernal walls harbouring human sin

Imprisoned and evil

I must flee this most unholy place

I am but a meek lamb

Powerless to defend myself

Weak and frightened

Only ... I cannot move!

Trapped in a state of stasis!

And things move in the mist

Creatures of infamy slinking in the shadows

Murderers, rapists, body snatchers

The foulest of spirits

Hearts filled with utter blackness

Blood-soaked hands

Wide, staring eyes, like uncharted caverns

Consumed by madness

A ravenous hunger to do ill

I try to scream but dread holds me firm

Unbearable horrors await me!

My suffering will be excruciating!

Oh, such terrible fate!

God ... please protect me!

From these satanic monstrosities!

I am too young to die

So much to live for

Please ... I beg of you!

Have mercy!

I stare into the mist

The murky, swirling mist

Like dense smoke spewing from a chimney

I see shapes fading in and out

Trickery or reality, I cannot decide which

A faint breeze whispers in my ear

Or possibly the voices of the dead?

Announcing their arrival

A sudden drop in temperature

The soured air deathly cold

Nature's way ... or something else entirely?

They are here

I am certain of it

A shadow emerges from the mist

Tall, drenched in black

An aura of unequivocal evil

Others stand behind him

Behind their master

He edges closer

I'm unable to breathe

Unable to move

Unable to close my protruding eyes

He stands before me

Face emerging from the mist

I see him

Clear as fine glass

Oh ... God!

Please ... no!

This cannot be!

Surely, I am trapped in a terrible reverie!

A harrowing nightmare!

For the face ... the face!

Why ... it is I!

My own face!

What perfidious nonsense confounds me?

Heinous fraudulence

The others emerge

Mildly familiar faces


They stare at me with such hatred

As if, I have done them a great wrongdoing

My doppelganger smiles

'Indeed you have,' he says

I suddenly feel so weak

I am about to faint

And mercifully, unconsciousness takes me away


I wake with a start

A figure looms over me

Tall, drenched in black

Behind him, there are others

'It is time,' a gruff voice says

'Time for what?' I mumble

'Why, your date with the gallows,' the voice says

'The gallows?' I say

'Yes, you fiend, the gallows.'

'Child killers deserve the gallows.'

'I hope you burn in Hell.'


Rough hands pull me up

I'm led down a dark corridor

Then dragged outside

To  face a large vociferous crowd

Baying and jeering

Demanding blood

The sky is leaden

Cheerless and bleak

Then I see it

Patiently waiting

A structure of prominence

The gallows

Thoughts resurface

It's all coming back to me

It all makes sense now

My despicable ways

My abnormal desires

My blasphemous crimes

And now ... my punishment

I'm pushed up the stairs

The noose descends

Then tightened around my neck

A moment of hush

Faces eager, wild with expectation

The trapdoor opens

I fall

A snapping sound

Then nothing


I wake with a start

A crow sits atop a crumbling headstone

Soulless eyes, black and motionless

The shadow of Death

The harbinger of things to come

This place seems so familiar

Dank and decayed

An old mort-house

An ancient kirk

Archaic gravestones

Accursed land

Swirling mist

Figures emerge from the mist


They stare at me with such hatred

I think they mean me great harm

They move forward

My eternal torment begins






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