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|Ratings Score: || 3.271
|Status Score: || 2.962
|Favor Score: || 0.000
|Total Score: || 6.233
|Average Member Rating: || 9.912
|Average Member Level: || 89.75
The porch light never extinguishes, quiet screams can be heard, behind black iron gate. Every community seems to have its own haunted house, devil house, etc., which may or may not be occupied, but in either case, is frequented by 'spooks' of one sort or another.
Hidden in perpetual shade
'Neath darkened bramble, there lays the glade
Branches twisting, limb contortions
Forming rent bodies, faces, and shapes...
The ruined pillars athrust from creeping vines
Within the black of deepest night
The fear sensations grip your mind
You can feel the evil of this place...
Howling echoes around abound
They know exactly where you are
What be that upon the ground
An offering to whatever dwells within
What kind of creatures could they be
To make such an awful sound...
A moan, a gasp, the thickened air
Within the bush, there's something there
A demon hand strokes your hair
Whispers beckon, phantom winds
A calling to the thorny snare...
The Gates of Hell within your mind
The Gates of Hell before your eyes
A chill ascends upon your spine
The mystery awaits..
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