Lord Freeza of Kouri

And the wind howled as the banshees’ cry, across a desolate barren plain,

And in their song, trapped souls morn and wail, their release from their totured prisons.

With the days ebbing light, grows the cold, the raven’s wing black, spreads o’er the land, and with it,

Its haunting cackles that rattles the bones of men, and the shivers of the unknown creep in upon our chambers.

And night’s cricket song silenced, as life shrivels and falls from arms outstretched.

Dark clouds oppression swarm the skies, and crowd out the stars, and with them as they press,

hear the moans as the earth falls into coma.

The banshee’s howl chases life from the once warm forests.

As the world darkens, the cold stiffens, and a single glistening falls, its delicate shape resting motionless upon the lifeless earth.

Awaiting, the gathering, their time has come the skies churn and twist,

Twirling lifeless bodies upon the forest floor into gnarled cyclones.

The rustling breath silenced as quick as it had begun, and then silence and it grew louder, the silence it grew.

As the world here seemed to stand for a dark eternity, they came.

If the clouds themselves had asunder torn, and bellowed forth, the glistenings fell, and blanketed the frigid ground.

Winter had come, and with it, the first snow.