The mist follows me,
greedy fingers around my neck,
stalking my footsteps.
It takes form
and whisks me away
to the tunnels below.
Smoke fills my lungs.
It travels down my throat,
filling me with darkness
and evil.
THE DEAD GAME
The mist follows me,
greedy fingers around my neck,
stalking my footsteps.
It takes form
and whisks me away
to the tunnels below.
Smoke fills my lungs.
It travels down my throat,
filling me with darkness
and evil.
THE DEAD GAME
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