DreamScapeStudio – Cursed Tavern

In a land lost to time, on a road worn and thin,
Stood a tavern at crossroads, where darkness begins.
The moonlight would shimmer on walls weathered gray,
And travelers whispered to keep far away.
Its windows were shattered, its doors hung ajar,
A beacon for souls who had wandered too far.
The wind carried cries from the nights long ago,
And the tales of its horrors were all you could know.

Oh, the Cursed Tavern, where shadows would weep,
A place where the restless forever would sleep.
No soul could escape from its treacherous snare,
For the tavern still stands, though no one knows where.

A band of fierce outlaws, with hearts cold as ice,
Found the tavern one night, and they gambled their lives.
They made it their lair, where the lost met their doom,
And the air filled with echoes of sorrow and gloom.
They drank and they plotted ‘neath the blood-red moon’s light,
Each crime more heinous, each sin more a blight.
But in shadows unseen, the tavern did brood,
And the walls seemed to whisper a warning of blood.

Oh, the Cursed Tavern, where shadows would weep,
A place where the restless forever would sleep.
No soul could escape from its treacherous snare,
For the tavern still stands, though no one knows where.

They lured in the travelers, the weary, the bold,
Robbed them of riches, and left them stone cold.
But the curse of the tavern was deeper than sin,
For the bandits themselves could not find a way in.
Each night grew more twisted, their laughter turned faint,
As the walls closed in, with a darkness so quaint.
The fire in the hearth burned colder each day,
And the spirits they summoned would not go away.

One night the fire burned bright, and the wind howled in rage,
But when dawn broke, the tavern was empty—a stage.
The bandits had vanished, no trace to be found,
Just whispers of terror that echoed around.
Their horses untethered, their weapons lay bare,
The tavern stood silent, like none had been there.
Some say they were taken by the spirits they wronged,
While others believe they were lost in the song.

Oh, the Cursed Tavern, where shadows would weep,
A place where the restless forever would sleep.
No soul could escape from its treacherous snare,
For the tavern still stands, though no one knows where.

Now the tavern remains, with its secrets untold,
A beacon of darkness, where the brave grow cold.
And those who still wander where the crossroads meet,
Might hear the lost bandits’ last steps on repeat.
The door creaks open, though no one is near,
The chill in the air brings the stench of fear.
For the Cursed Tavern waits, with its hunger unquenched,
And its story grows darker, in shadows entrenched.

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