It was a dark and stormy night when in that manor I took fright
proceeded with might gulping as dead flowers send hair to fight
if only there was more light, tripping and scaring despite
the door frame left a bite came in after spite
but the halls getting more tight for another wight
wandering in to find respite, wonder the plight
did they escape in flight or get left as blight
most dares too trite but this one I cite
will you be the knight or the one hiding sight
Never had I quite seen a paler shade of white
I made it out alright, just in time to write

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Scarlatan, in the year 609 AF.