A Visit to the Halls
by Robert J Fullerton
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This in a response to Paul Berube's delightful Haggard's Halls series.
A Visit To The Halls05/01/03
Last night, sleep eluded me,
and I stared at four bare walls.
So I let my mind take me away,
to visit Haggard's Halls.
I knew the paths I must take;
our friend Paul showed me the way.
And I knew the risks of going there,
and so, I knelt to pray.
I prayed the Lord would let me live,
and bring to you this tale.
Then I stood before the great Hall's doors,
the moon was cold and pale.
Inside, I heard such cries of pain,
and shrieks from untold maimed.
And, from within, I heard a voice
that was calling out my name.
The smell of blood and butchery
was heavy on the air.
Dare I take the chance, and go inside,
knowing well how I might fare?
The Hall's doors slowly opened wide
and I peered into the haze.
Then the keeper of this torture pit
chanced to fall within my gaze.
No mortal man; So tall, so dark,
with eyes as black as sin.
He howled with glee, and beckoned me;
"Well, Robert. Please step in.".
Inside I saw the cold, dank walls,
adorned with hooks and chains.
And heard the cries of endless souls
enduring endless pains.
Rats and spiders everywhere,
and bloodstains on the stones.
And in every room within these
Halls, were piles of human bones.
The cries and moans that filled the air,
from victims not yet dead.
Froze my mind, and filled my heart
and soul with awful dread.
I wished to run; I couldn't move,
I was held by evil's power.
And I felt that I would forfeit life,
and be damned within the hour.
Then, suddenly; I was awake,
and shivering in my bed.
The cries of all those tortured souls
still ringing in my head.
But; This was no dream; For I was there,
inside those hateful Halls.
And I can tell you, stone by stone,
the contours of the walls.
Now I lie here, and shake with fear:
There's good reason for my fright.
The dreadful things I witnessed there,
have turned my dark hair white!
So, stay away, and save your souls,
I warn you, one and all.
I played the fool, and now I pay.
Lord, I wish I'd heeded Paul.
So let Haggard's Halls, and our friend Paul,
those gruesome secrets keep
But; Woe is me, I'm oh, so tired,
Yet.. Too.. Afraid.. To.. Sleep.
This poem is dedicated to Paul E. Berube.