Fear what resides-in the daunting spells that cast at midnight
beware the flames that dance with demons
Wiccan Rebel

The Ledgend
O' spare me the trouble of her horrid tale, of the story teller sharing his mid-night spells, theirs clashing and mixing with mid-night afairs, the two so differnt yet their heart beats tonight. Yet as soft tears stream down the ink is washed-off and the work that was written shall ne'or return

The Truth
Speak softly, of the hushed trail she leaves, vanishing through depths of mercy, t'ward the platform o' hell. nails peirce realm with solitary glare, tendrils sweep t'ward loam in effortless movement. equine is noted to lurk in shadowed vale, soft notes of the horrid cry emit. labria is pushed forth swaying along, as the night skys paint a picture so picturequesed preformed

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