Spooktacular Classics are dried-up chunks of word vomit which I like to regurgitate every time a Halloween Spooktacular event rolls onto the Interwebs scene.

You’ve been warned.
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The Darkness

He wanders into the Darkness
Captivated, in awe.
It stretches black tendrils,
Grasping, pulling him.
They begin to rip him apart,
Mutilating, warping thoughts,
Tearing through his lungs
Greedily, hungrily;
Suffocating him as he struggles,
Pushing, digging deeper,
Singeing his tender soul.
Blinded, hopeless,
He gasps for air,
Swollen, bleeding tongue
Unable to form words.
Brighter, growing longer,
The tendrils melt his skin.
Hollow, stark white
Bones show through the inflictions.
Falling, breaking apart,
He is then a skeleton
Shattering, collapsing brutally
On jagged stones beneath him.
Frightful, eerie sounds
Enter his shallow mind.
Dead, lifeless bones
Whisper of what he once was.
Power, unknown strength
Move his joints in unison.
Laughing, taunting him,
The tendrils embrace him happily.
Standing, bowing willingly,
He begins his servitude
To the Darkness.