Shadowy Figures Came to Call

Shadowy Figures Came to Call

The night was still, the air was tight,

A hush that pressed against the light.

And in the silence, cold and thin,

The shadowy figures crept within.

They whispered low, they sighed and swayed,

Their outlines blurred, their faces frayed.

A chorus sung in voiceless breath,

A lullaby that smelled of death.

Their fingers traced along the wall,

A hollow knock, a phantom call.

Each step they took erased the past,

As time unraveled, loose and fast.

The candles flickered, choked with gloom,

Their glow devoured, consumed by doom.

And in the dark, the shadows swirled,

A hunger twisting through the world.

She felt their weight, she knew their names,

Old ghosts that played familiar games.

Regrets and fears, they wove her tight,

Bound to the marrow of the night.

Yet as they circled, poised to stay,

A distant sliver split the gray.

Not morning’s light, nor mercy’s grace,

But deeper dark, a colder place.

The door swung wide, she heard them call,

And as she stepped, she knew it all.

No sun, no stars beyond that gate,

Just shadowed hands to seal her fate.