A tower looms across the plain as seen.
It has stood tall, for as long as time has been.
A history of horror, torment and pain.
Swamped with catacombs, where men were slain.
The mossy sides, are stained with blood.
Where children were hung, and evil did all it could.
This is the place,
Evil's resting place.
A man of twenty, brood and bold.
Wandering lost, in the winters dark cold.
He approaches at last, a place to rest.
He steps inside, and lays his hands to his breast.
Slumbering by the fire he has made.
A tune of eerie proportions is slowly played.
He stumbles awake, and peers around.
Glancing towards a piano, but no feet touch the ground.
He walk towards the grand instrument with aw.
He never comprehended, what his eyes had saw.
It was nothing.
But the keys played gently, and strummed in motion.
So softly they played, he could hear the ocean.
The hairs of his back, slowly stiffened in the cold.
A feeling of a presence, or his soul be sold.
"I taketh your soul, as you would wish."
A voice erupted, a scent of rotting fish.
"Who be yee?" Our man would say.
Silence, til the break of day.