AT THE GREYSTONE

From my village, there’s a trail

That leads to the Greystone

Standing tall upon a hill.

Animals nip at its mosses by day

The children love to climb it, and nap in its shade.

But every night, a strange thing occurs…

With a shake and a rumble, up out from the earth,

A geyser so tall, from the Greystone does burst.

And any who drink at the time of eruption

Will find that their senses cease to function,

And visions are seen of other worlds,

The Greystone is a point between Hell and our Earth.

In my youth, I remember the urge to go near and

Drink from that geyser, in spite of my fear

I went to a puddle in the Greystone’s side

Cupped my hands, and gave it a try.

The water was cold and it frosted my lips

My hands upon the moss, frozen down to the tips.

Eyes glazed over, my body went limp

And that’s when I found myself face to face

With him.

Tall and strong he stood over me

His long, knotted beard hid his fang-like teeth

Orange and brown, his twisted mane

Rested on his back and covered his face

I cursed him, I shouted, but dared not to touch him

He took hold of my shoulders and stood me up again.

“This is only a vision, only the geyser,

Playing tricks on my mind and–“

His tired grey eyes opened wider.

And I should have remembered, where there’s smoke there’s fire.

With a wave and a whisper…

My body expired.

And my soul was released, as I floated away

I stared down at the Greystone,

And saw only a grave.

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