Phantasmagoria

One night in late October cold,

The harvest moon glowed copper, bright.

The fair maid, Eva, did behold

A lovely, terrifying sight.

A dream or truth she could not tell,

So rapt was she within that trance.

Some dark magician did weave a spell

And led the shadows in ghostly dance.

The wind through gnarled trees did moan,

The moon shone down her cold, pale gleam.

The night did beckon spirits roam,

Called forth from some cursed mage’s dream.

Young Eva sat, with blankets drawn,

Her green eyes darting through the room,

O’er walls and ceilings, for there upon

The silhouettes of goblins loomed.

And from the shadows of her bed,

She watched the spectral dancers sway

Through murky mazes in her head,

Their haunting waltz called her away.

Up from the bed she swiftly rose,

And down the stairs in silence tread.

Her blood, the howling wind had froze.

Her heart, the night had filled with dread.

Spurred onward by the spritely throng

Unto a darkened forest glade,

And down a murky tunnel long

Bedecked in garlands of black nightshade.

Deep underground where starlight dies,

The revelers never slowed their pace.

What ghastly spark glowed in their eyes

Behind the masks that hid each face.

A flash of satin, brush of silk,

In colors crimson, sable, gold.

Each rouged complexion, pale as milk,

Kept secrets hidden and untold.

They twirled and leaped, a dazzling sight,

The lords and ladies, gilded all.

Sweet Eva prayed for ceaseless night.

Bewitched, she was, in that golden hall.

The music led her round the room,

Mournful strains of ancient times.

The notes began to swell and bloom

Into a haunting waltz sublime.

And Eva reveled in the song;

Her steps grew steadier and bold

Until she melded with the throng,

Not feeling how the hall’d grown cold.

On played the band with feverish pace,

The notes now dissonant and strange.

The impish dancers kept their grace

With pirouettes dizzying and deranged.

But something in the music stirred

A fiendish spark deep in her soul.

A voice called out unseen, yet heard

Echoing through the glittering knoll.

It cried her name, a whispered sigh,

“Your home lies now in shadows drear,

Seek not to look upon the sky,

Dwell here with me, my daughter dear.”

As Eva turned, a shadow loomed,

Smirking from across the hall.

This figure, draped in shroud from tomb,

To bright-eyed Eva now did call.

And then she moved, as if entranced,

Among the gilded, grinning throng

That sneered and swayed as on they danced,

“To us, dear Eva, you now belong.”

The incubus reached with slender hand

And guided Eva onto the floor.

With a wave he signaled to the band,

“Strike up your haunting waltz once more.”

And o’er the marbled floor they flew,

The masqueraders trailed in their wake.

Their revelry and laughter grew

Until the floors and walls did shake.

And Eva trembled at the sight,

Her mind bewitched, her senses vexed.

She muddled through the labyrinthine night,

The victim of some demon's hex.

But then…

A distant rumbling filled the hall

And candles dimmed their golden flames.

The lords and ladies trembled all,

And mirrors cracked within their frames.

The dancers slowed as the light grew dim,

Masked faces in the crowd obscured.

The visages, sunken, gaunt, and grim

Had lost their sparkle and allure.

Eva gasped in great surprise

To see the enchanted hall dissolve

And melt away before her eyes

As from that palace she was removed.

From shadow’s grasp was Eva torn

And reeling back through tunnels deep

In unseen clutches was she borne,

And back through forest glade did creep.

The wind still howled its mournful cry,

The moon still glowed with death-pale light.

Dark shadows danced across the sky,

A host of spirits taking flight.

And Eva stirred within her bed,

Waking to behold the truth.

The shadowed realm in which she tread

Naught but a dream of disturbéd youth.

For ten long years had she been kept

Within the confines of a cell

Like some wild animal entrapped

Inside a ghastly, barren hell.

What she mistook for freedom sweet

Had soured right before her eyes.

Oh how she wished she could retreat

Back to that gilded paradise.

Pandora pouring forth her fears

Could not compare to Eva’s woe.

She shrieked and wailed through caustic tears

For loss of all she knew below.

Poor Eva wept and salt tears fell

As she sat upon the stone floor, cold.

For she had never really left her cell,

Still locked was she in the asylum’s hold.