The sun lies down dying, the last waves of light fading

Dusk comes as sweeping tides, shadows running rampant and untamed

The souls wander lost between worlds, eternally dammed and lost for salvation

And the Cheshire cat smiles from the moon, lunatic beams from the boundless night shining like fire

Casting a gleaming glow upon the forgotten ruined house, aged with neglect and decay

Till darkness rules the world, enveloping all in its embracing womb of unknowing and mystery

The house rebirthed into its majestic form in its entirety

Crystal glass long stained flourish in all its faded splendor

And from the darkness where only the dead may enter and leave faint shadows dancing like demons

Upon each wall, heralding the arrival of the masters and mistress of the dammed

Come from the spectral mist they enter in all their regal sway and disillusion lies

Each sanctioned room, hallowed by the lunar light and their unearthly glow, they come to jeer and thrall

Revelry long since past, endless but forgotten by mortal thought, renewed and thriving on misery

And romance spanning through time and judgment

The living room once more lives by their shades, faceless guests murmuring and enjoying themselves

On ashen wine and watery hopes, crimson streaks on the floor, dragging and aged into semblance

The faintest shadow lying on the floor, the body gasped in a frozen mix of fear and sorrow

Down the hallways towards each and every door way the twins giggle and cry

One with a mask grinning in demented joy and the other's mask wallowing in untold grief

Walking down the hallways, passing through phantom's shadows that partied there

Their matching dresses twirled in the night time air, their laced gloves so delicate and gentle

Clutching dull rusting knives, long dipped in faded scarlet juice

Each talking to each other in solemn silence, moving around two young boys that played with a flat ball

The boys passing with empty sockets for eyes, their chest forever slashed and pierces, bowing

As the twins marched by them, their knives gleaming in the moon light

The Ballroom once again aglow with the ever flowing poetry of lords and ladies dancing

Colors twisting and turn like cascading blossoms in bloom, elegance and pride abound

As the most regal of them all step under the crystalline chandelier, each movement of grace

Ever watching others through his grand deer mask, his antlers entwine with silken thread

Stepping closer to the fairest maiden in the room of the intangible enticers and performers

The maiden smiles through her feathered mask, her gown shimmering with ageless beauty

They bowed, entwining hands as they placed the other at their partner's sides and shoulder

Together they twirled and spun, the very visage of an age best forgotten form of elegance

Love and mystery, forever spinning to the hidden, soundless music that drifted in the air

Never caring for the bodies that was sprawled around them, their rich cloths caked with dust,

Their gemmed glasses not far from their hands, still stained with poisonous aroma

The Game Room liberated from the cold endless nights, now warm with the raging fire in the stove

As the light from the embers make the shadows leap and dance in joy

The animal's heads mounted on each wall, their glass eyes watching the two sole phantoms in their room

A young boy holding on his mask with glee, his small suite matching his elder brothers

His mask calm and stern like the eye of the perfect storm, holding on his younger's shoulder

With a tender hand, taking delight in each corpse that was perfectly stuffed

With boundless childish magic did the younger run across the rooms, inspecting each creature

As his excitement came out as leaps and springs of the youth's energy, indulging his senses at the sights

His brother smiled at him, watching with tranquil penitence, remembering the timeless truth

Of the thrill of the hunt, a thrill immortal and sinful that not all dare enter it's realm of iron and powder

Slowly walking passed the chair that had the once great colonel in it, his hands still holding

His favorite brand of cigars and a bottle of schnapps, his chest ridden with bullet holes

The study breathing once more as the cat masked madam moves with ethereal beauty

Semblance to Bastet of the ancient lore, grace and wonder throughout the ages

Gliding over the many volumes of forgotten lore, long since laid to dust and rust

Only recently renewed and glittering like stars and moons

Delicately she leafs through them, timeless joys and treasures hidden in the pages

Softly she giggles, a whisper of ember glow warmness that illuminates her like a beam of God's light

Visage of saintly justice and a mother's tender loving care that beckons gentle dreams to wander

Roaming and giving the faded books new life, hearing the ancient tomes speak

Forever drowning out the silence of the hanging man that rest in the noose above her

The feast hall that once serve cobwebs, motes of ash, and broken dreams

Now thrive serving a kingly banquet of roasted meat and honeyed yams

As the kegs of ale burst and flood into the phantom's goblets, to the brim with sweet nectar

The man of demon faces and horn gloat haughtily, making merry of his plate

Cackling as plate upon plate of the juiciest steaks and steamed potatoes formed from air to his table

With a devilish delight he calls for more food, all joining the feasting in his thrall

Wrenches comes singing honeyed tones of music as invisible hands play instruments

Adding to the fevered delirium of joy of eating once more to the grand feast

Until at long last with wicked eyes he demanded silence all around, barking to halt the fine celebration

He raises a crystal chalice that filled with spirits and wine of the best

The heavenly aroma of it filling the hall with calmness and clarity

With a barking cough he clears his throat and raises his chalice to all to see

And toasted to his health and those of others, and that their feast fulfill their bellies with the finest

And each specter and wrench raised their goblets, toasting to their lives as the main course came about

Colossal platters of silver and gold where carried, hidden by domes

Only to show the succulent meats of the dead chefs, peppered and stewed in their finest ware

A banquet for the shades, a meal from the corpses

Farthest from them all the soulful joyous madness inside the mansion

The baron and baroness stroll in the blooming garden of roses and starlight

Gently touching each rose with ghosting hands and calm eyes

The baron in his mask of the wolf, the lord of the feral royalty of the night

Looking up at the moon, taking a sense of endless bliss and fury that instills him, enticing him

To forgo the status-quo and reign in the dark of the night immortal

Calmed only by the hand of his mistress, the queen of twilight, baroness of souls

Her faceless mask of pale haunting beauty and spiraled ram horns

That shone in the smothering darkness, her dress of emerald roots in a midnight shroud

A simple touch of her graceful hand upon the rose, the rose wilts to ashes

And yet a simple stroke from her, the rose reborn in a new life, blooming in reverence

They walk through the garden grounds, the shadows parting before them

The statutes moving from stone's sleep to bow before them only to resume their stance

Even the mist that swirls around them stop to beg their pardons

Forming the forgotten and the dammed, bowing and curtsying at their approach

Silent demons hunting in the paved stones face them, only to kneel and run for fear and life

Her husband growling, a sound loud as thunder and soft as candle light

And all before them part ways, their path unhindered

As all scatter from his darken feral and her ethereal beauty

Save for the two lovers, both marked by beasty claws and fangs, embracing each other in death's grasp

The clock strikes at six, the bells a chorus of machine and ghastly tunes

Echoing faintly as the sun rises, flooding the mansion with its golden all-knowing rays

The hallways faded and torn, bare of any trace of joy

The ballroom silent, the floor void of dancers, the air empty of music

The game room dusty and rust, the animals perfectly stuffed past their prime, now rotting in mildew

The study filled with rotted books, no soft candle light to greet the sun, all but cobwebs

The feast hall tarnished, no enticing aroma of meats in the air, no goblet filled with brew

The gardens rotted, overruled by weeds and parasites, semblance of life lost in the brown grass

The house stands alone, glory faded into ugliness, sagging and weary of life and death

Cursed and forsaken by the sun, waiting, ever waiting for night