Folklore tells of an old victorian era house that sits somewhere beyond the gravel turnaround by the "Dead End" sign. The house has an untold number of rooms and gardens with deep pools lined with golden tiles. Evergreen hedges, that shy away as you reach out to touch them, line the charcoal-gray walkways. Royal-blue Morning Glories squint from their capture in the dusty brick wall. Various vines and Creeping Charlies stalk among the silvery sword of grass. A heavy mists obscures the house so that you cannot see it until you find your nose pressed right up against it. Legends tell that inside the house you can forget every moment of pain experienced.
Jules went searching for the house when they were young. The forest thrashed and shrieked and tried to scare Jules away but eventually surrendered the fabled abode. The great oak doors breathed out in a wheezing croak. Jules walked through a foyer and hallway. Their reflection swam through the river on the ceiling. A library presented itself and unraveled as far as the eye could see. Arches, vaults and spires composed entirely out of books were constructed temptingly, hoping to capture some inquisitive mind to read and forget all else. However, Jules' attention was only ensnared by one novel. A thin tome with a red cover and its title in fanciful steel-colored words -- "The Estates of Sparkling Haze".
lyrics
Another cocktail toward my trepidation
French blue affections left in stations
Gargoyles that cry along the Eastern spires
Wings too short to fly, in decline
It's miserable to feel any better than before
Does it turn you on?
By yourself
Just the touch of loneliness
What secret phrase could grace the silence we revived
Could it strike you strange?
Message made
In a cup of loneliness
Religious tension in estates of sparkling haze
To cautiously exciting imitations laid
Resonating fright of comest vandalized
Resonating fright I'll never cross your mind
It's miserable to feel any better than before
Does it turn you on?
By yourself
Just the touch of loneliness
What secret phrase could grace the silence we revived
Could it strike you strange?
Message made
In a cup of loneliness
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