The House on Oakdale Road

I wish I could spin you a yarn of mere imagination, casting doubt upon the grim reality that unfolded. To claim it was a fanciful fabrication, a concoction of the mind, a fabricated escapade where love's loss was but a phantom. A blood bond, a solemn vow to protect, now shattered into oblivion. Were it not for a living witness, a survivor who persists to this very day, his hand resting upon my shoulder, solemnly affirming the horrors that transpired in that house, I might be deemed insane. A mad daydreamer, teetering upon the precipice between the realms of fancy and the chilling grip of actuality, a candidate for the confinement of a straitjacket. Yet, the truth looms before us, an inescapable verity that none who peruse this chronicle will fathom as deeply as I. An insidious evil slumber in the dark, its riddles unanswered, its haunting whispers resurging from the depths of forgotten memories. A relentless quest to unveil ancient enigmas, to unravel secrets that gnaw at my sanity like a ravenous beast. Should the accursed abode ever reveal its sinister countenance to you, heed my plea: retreat, avoid its grasp, and never venture within. I implore you, for your own safety, let the shadows enshroud whatever evil mysteries dwell there. What more to say... I lost my friend. I wish to speak of tales untold, Of imagination's realm, a story to unfold. Yet true it is, not mere fabrication's guise, A solemn narrative, where reality lies. A bound of blood, a promise strong, A love once vibrant, now forever gone. A witness stands, alive and true, To vouch for deeds that the darkness drew, In whispered tones, a chilling refrain, A tale of loss, of heartache's pain. Aline blurred between dream and wake, A mind ensnared in its own ache. Haunted by memories, forgotten, yet near, Unearthed secrets, the soul's deepest fear. Driven to quest, to search the abyss, In pursuit of truth, a journey amiss. Should the house reveal its ominous face, Beware its shadows, its eerie embrace. Stay far, stay safe, heed this plea, Some mysteries are best left free.