Through the Stygian Shadows...

Following the fetid stream meandering the dark wood, through the tangled, grabbing underbrush that urges you to proceed not further, you emerge upon a tableau that forever sears itself unto your immortal being. Between the tangled limbs and scratching branches, and through the stygian shadows dance the loathsome populace, both large and small, of this very night of nights.


Fear upwells within your breast as the beat, beat, beat of that damnable, unruly drum pounds in your ears, like your heart about to burst from fear, but there is nowhere to turn to, no where to run. The dancers gimble and gyre around you, twist and twirling, calling and beckoning. First one step, then another, until, you too, are caught up in the fray.


Dread and dismay, one by one, whirl you away through the dark of the night and through that rude wood, until the dawn, but there is no return. There is only the crazed drum, drum, drum in your ears as your very soul faces away into its grim recesses...