A valley glowing with mystic moonlight,
Where shadows and shades grimly fight,
A place where peace, silence and rest
Fled along with all things blessed.
Lying in this valley a person sleeps -
A girl of the woods, her happiness fleet,
An escape from the world, her enemies, and fears,
Where she can breath, and shed some tears...
She searches for this place and finds instead,
The dark and gloomy Valley of the Dead.

As she lies in a peaceful, untroubled sleep,
Around her long dead spirits glide and creep,
Whispering to themselves with thoughts unspoken,
Crying out their pain and horrors, broken.
In a jealous rage they watch the girl lie,
Wishing for her precious life, or wanting her to die.
They mutter and moan, steadily creeping nearer
To her bed of twigs and dirt, and as they peer
They reach out a cold, chilled hand to her lithe arm;
A spirit touches her warm, life-filled body, charmed.

The girl awakened to the searing pain,
And gasped as the agony reached her brain.
She opened her eyes and saw the spirits around her,
Worshipping her on her dirt twig alter.
Tears filled her eyes in wonder,
As she realized where she had slumbered -
She knew the tales of terror and dread
of the spirits whose pain must constantly be fed.
In this cursed and reviled place, where it is said
No living being may reside in the Valley of the Dead.

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