So they say to never talk to strangers,
for all the dangers they pose.
And I must disclose this holds some truth,
as I discovered in my youth, many years ago.
Many years ago, I was an overly curious creature,
desperate to make a feature out of old wives tales.
Told to follow the old trails and enter the graveyard at death's hour,
and walk towards the Locke mausoleum tower with a lantern to offer.
A lantern to offer to those that lingered behind,
a light to guide them, confined as they were to the living plane.
Ignoring the desperate wails made in vain by those who came before me,
I was unfortunately quick to see it was all indeed real, too real.
Too real for myself to even dare begin to manage, to handle,
with nothing save for my notebook, the lantern, it's candle, and that absurd curiosity.
The monstrosity that descended upon me was looming yet silent,
but all the same intent to be violent, and so it was.
And so it was, or they were, I can scarcely recall,
what with reality slowing to a crawl amongst the tombs.
Trapped in a graveyard, one assumes who could've guessed,
but I shouldn't have messed with them, they lingered for a reason.
They lingered for a reason initially unknown,
yet even in knowing I cannot condone their cruelty.
A fortuity that I even was there for them to plunder,
though I wonder, where would I be now, if I had not gone?
If I had not gone I would be no where in fact,
as I never would've cracked enough to discover the power of my soul.
Something bright, leading to abilities beyond imagination,
freed by immense frustration, a soft yet powerful light.
A soft yet powerful light that never goes out,
without a doubt forming my saving grace.
Never leaving a trace, it destroys as it heals,
and reveals the truth, whatever it may be.
Whatever it may be even if it's so cruelly simple,
those crippled souls who thrived in chaos.
Awakened by a satanic séance countless years past,
with my power we'd all be free at last, now and forevermore.
Now and forevermore I realized I could alter history,
with life no longer a mystery, at least not impossibly so.
A powerful defender, greater in knowledge and strength than ever before,
to the extent that I became part of the lore, another tale spun.
Another tale spun, only a little different this time,
composed of not a crime, but an air of finality.
I was the ending of the brutality wrought by the Locke necropolis,
rising to prominence, life and death at my heels, so they say.