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House of Horrors
Outside the sounds and smells of death engulf you in their spell. The huckster's tinny, rasping voice entices you to visit hell. You must go in to win a fiendish dare. You're drifting in and out of empty, airless, eerie tombs; On through dankest, deeply darkened, tunneled spider wombs Of staring cobwebbed eyeballs limp and cold. You're hearing voices moaning, groaning, gasping as in fits; Screaming, begging, coaxing you come down into their pits Of nauseous slippy slime and musty mold. You're dazed by lifeless, bloodless corpses filling every room; Then startled as a blaring, warty witch perched on a broom Enfolds you in her foul and fetid cape. You run as huge rats follow through the hollow halls with creaking floors. Twisting, writhing, hissing snakes surround the two huge doors; The only ones that lead to your escape. On shaking, quaking, rubber legs with racing heart you lurch outside. You quickly smooth your frizzled hair and soothe your frazzled pride; So grateful for the sun's bright golden glare.
Just a bit of fun --- as Halloween nears and county fairs are in full swing.
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