Forest dark with a winding path
A little foreboding at night
Potential prey to creature’s wrath
Where shadows obscure all from sight

A lone cabin offers refuge
From the things that cry, creep, and crawl
And protection from the deluge
As the downpour begins to fall

Yet the shack does not surcease fear
As ghostly stories are spoken
Three tales are told aloud to hear
Horrors galore are awoken

With tales fantastic and scary
Teeth start to chatter as terror soars
Eyes dart and senses are wary
The very last story is yours

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