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Wolfbane
#3
Not the best in writing spooky but, here goes nothing!
Manifesto of a Princess
To every juncture, the ceremonial fall of leaves drop in decadence to the death that awaits them.
And these supposed ponies and other souls that walk among them celebrate on this event?
Oh, how Schadenfreude runs deep in your iron blood. Elicits such an atrociously delight of laughter.
How little you realize this.
Hoards of your guttersnipe minions
Sieges to one home after another, chirping the chanted 3 words 'Trick or Treat'
Till every. Single. Drop. Of rotting sweetness is withered from abodes.
Your daft designs of illusion, you carry on in merriment!
Bountiful gluttony as far as the hills can touch the sky!
The equinoctial year.
Centennial.
Millennial.
This suspended slumber; imprisoned, I look on.
A day of jest, asinine.
You celebrate, in heed of my name. Like Banners, you fly and hold so dearly.
On a day that many call 'the annual death of life' eluded to my mind.
So My Little. Blessed Ponies. Your cognizance to the abysmal darkness lives with a beating heart.
Endure the feeling of encampment in a domain, in which you can never truly leave.
It suffocates you, a heart seeking to claw out from its cavity for rest from the fear you psychologically trigger.
The organ in your throat drying to swill the little air that is left to muster!
And when the blur of chaos comes forth, it is cold. Empty in void.
Nightmare Night.
Should I give them one forth, the true definition of a nightmare?
Words and eyes that stab like daggers?
Give a sensation of both release and dread of it's burning sting of my visage?
I feel you all have had your array of 'leisure'
It is time for my own, Divine Comedy.