A cool October

 a not so cold night,

yet the chills ran deep,

a night filled with fright.

Bludgeon was there,

A date with dementia

and Gorgach Urchin

Did they not getcha?

Master of the barn

The butcher bloodshed,

he took what he needed

and left the rest dead.

Then entered the clowns

Their jokes were lethal.

Those comics of doom

Became pure evil.

Then you were trapped

Deep in Misery's mine.

Stayed true to the task

Yet you had no spine?

For the timbers did creek

and boulders did crash,

First breathing dust

then the fire and ash.

And what became

of an old sawmill,

When rage took o'er

It was time to kill.

The cemetery's path

a mysterious lane,

Where all still lived

and screams were in vain

The hotel stood tall

 in the town Weepingville,

where once lived many

It is now quite still.

Yet Some have noted

on nightly occasion,

the deceased still roam

with no population.

Then as you live.

Then as you die.

The country morgue,

It's your final goodbye

This sleeping little farm

has turned in for the night.

Yet spirits still dwell

where there is no light.

So my friend, I say

 too speak quietly.

If presence be known

pain comes severely.

For within this darkness

the dread still burned.

In Two thousand and ten

The terror returned.

Some of our graphics from our past years!