Upon a rocky cliff sitting high above the world,
Waiting for the brave, who are willing to take the tour.
The jagged edges of the road have been known to take you down,
Landing far below in the so called ghost town.
Do ye live? Some do, some do not depends on you,
And how well you listen and follow the clues.
So many people have disappeared. Why do they still arrive?
Why take the tour if there is a chance you do not survive.
A top the cliff the castle stands I made it with much fear.
Why did I come? Stubborn perhaps. Squelch the rumors I hear.
It is only legends. Ghost stories handed down and spread,
Why would people think you could be hurt by the dead?
An eerie feel upon entering the castle, I shivered and I shook.
Take hold, take hold. I am here now, I must look.
So beautiful inside, though no servants nor guides did I see,
It had been well preserved to be uninhabited for a century.
Room to room, I visited and wandered off alone,
Escaping from the others and soon realized they were gone.
There had been very few, for none were quite brave,
To make it to the top for fear of finding their grave.
There was nothing up here, just a castle that once was
Or so I thought. Cocking my ear I heard the buzz.
Many, oh so many voices, but no one seemed to appear.
Must be my imagination, there was nothing to fear.
He walked down the stairway, well more of a float or a glide.
Transparent to my view, and many followed him outside.
I could not see their faces, but could feel the chill as they traveled,
A set up. It had to be for if not my mind was coming unraveled.
I followed. Oh how ridiculous I felt following ghosts,
When I should be inside looking for the castles host.
Where did they go? Running I looked all around,
At the edge of the cliff I screamed. I was falling towards the town.
I would not survive the fall, there was no way I could survive.
It was at least a mile, no one could fall that far and remain alive.
Oh how I prayed, and so long seemed the fall, floating forever.
Wait. Floating? I laughed. No strings. Indeed it was clever
I landed on my feet at the edge of the old town,
There were many people. Some standing some walking around.
I tried to engage them in conversation, but none even talked.
They looked straight through me, as beside them I walked.
I shrugged my shoulders and went to investigate,
I had no time to delay for the hour was getting late.
I was taken back in time, farther back than I wished to go
Back to a time when witches were hunted, and laid low.
A barn, bales of hay undisturbed still in their stalls,
Steel manacles and chains of torture lining the walls
I shivered for a sudden vision cast before my eyes,
And now I knew the tale of death and ghost were not lies.
She hung upon the wall, from her eyes the blood seeped,
She was crying inside but no tears could she weep.
For she had no eyes. From their sockets they had been removed,
But they had not stopped there. No they were not through.
A huge w burned in her forehead for witch it stood,
Her captors wished to show that she was no good.
They tore out her heart and it still lay at her feet,
And thus their torture had been complete.
I hear them. The voices they come near.
Real or ghosts I wish no one to find me in here.
I have a feeling that they will keep me here forever,
For I escaped them once all ties had been severed.
That was me hanging there another body my soul had taken,
Out of balance I had become my whole world shaken.
I had escaped in the night while the town slept,
I knew the guards but still to the gates I had quietly crept
Once again I had to leave, I had to run for the gates,
But now I was surrounded I waited much too late.
Curiosity caused me to return to my old home town.
Older and wiser, my face marred with a frown.
They led me in chains, once again I was hung upon the wall,
No bodies to invade because we were ghosts one and all.
This was my eternity now, oh why had I returned?
And as the hot poker touched my forehead, my soul burned.
© Cynthia Clark