The Home on Hunter’s Lane

They wept: — memories staggered down the passageway.
Brought home through the torrents of scalding rain, they fled.
Paths of life dreamt; forever denied an angels mercy.
Forgotten, dispossessed, banished within our realm,
the spirit resisted the lures of life, be gone it whispered.

Twins flames of anger shone forth from the windows of that lonely home.
In the midnight hour, the soul’s pain shone in retrospective virulence.
Hatred for the living smelted the flesh, burnished the souls, which walked the lane.
Abandoned in the primordial depths, they despised the wicked living,
A living death, a seeker of flesh, it waited, it craved.

Emotional rot in its core, the beast of Hunter’s Lane resisted
the call to lay in its grave, come to me, it begged those without.
In the darkness of the window, it sought victims for play.
Withered from life’s destitution, the prey moved close.
A family’s wretched spirits gained a foothold within its lair.
The seeker concealed, spoke in dreams of murder and misdeed.

Darkness bloomed, shedding the light of eternal warmth,
as the malignancy cajoled the young one, join me it implored.
Forever unite with I; we shall explore deaths boundless light.
Within the home on Hunter’s Lane, she crept along those corridors.
While in her hand, the blade dripped with crimson nectar,
as the trail led from bed to bed.

Warmth fled as the steel turned red: — a soul’s death.
In the horrid expanse of her mind, desires of life rebelled; I am dead.
Her life of promise abandoned as she fled the shattered remains.
A corpse lay in the attic, her journey corrupted by the beast.
While along the lane, passerby’s whispered of the curse they bore.
The House on Hunter’s Lane: — a crypt for the dead.

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