A mournful tune, a chilling breeze,
Across the moor, the shadows creep,
And whispers of the secrets sleep.
A lone traveler, on horseback strong,
Rode through the night, where shadows throng.
He sought a refuge, warm and bright,
From the cold storm, and endless night,
An inn stood beckoning, with light,
A promise of warmth, and solace bright,
He spurred his horse, and raced the storm,
A haven sought, from fear and form.
The door creaked open, welcoming,
A fire crackled, light shimmering,
A weary soul, with eyes of grey,
Sought comfort, at the end of day,
The innkeeper, with a knowing smile,
Offered a drink, and a rest awhile.
But in the shadows, something stirred,
A flicker of fear, a whispered word,
A sense of unease, a creeping chill,
The innkeeper's eyes, held something ill,
The traveler's heart, began to race,
As darkness closed in, at a chilling pace.
A sudden shriek, a bloodcurdling cry,
The innkeeper's face, contorted high,
The fire died, leaving only gloom,
The traveler knew, his fate was doom,
The shadows danced, with evil glee,
As the traveler's soul, was set free.
The wind still howls, the shadows stay,
The inn remains, in silent sway,
A chilling tale, of fear and dread,
A traveler lost, and a soul misled,
The moor remains, a haunting sight,
Where shadows dance, and whispers blight.