Beyond the town, past lantern’s glow,
Where eerie winds and shadows go,
A market wakes when stars appear,
To lure the brave, or those who fear.
The cobblestones are cracked and worn,
By feet of those who won’t return.
And yet, the whispers call you near,
To stalls of wonder, dread, and cheer.
A man in robes of midnight’s hue,
His eyes like ice, his smile askew,
Sells time in bottles, ages sealed,
But warns of truths best left concealed.
“Buy a year or trade your pain,
But debts unpaid will be your bane.”
The bargain struck, you walk away,
Yet feel your soul begin to fray.
A woman draped in spider’s silk,
Offers goblets filled with moonlit milk.
“One sip brings dreams of endless skies,
But drink too much, and daylight dies.”
Around the stalls, the wares grow strange—
A mirror that warps, a clock that deranged.
Books that whisper in voices low,
Telling secrets you shouldn’t know.
A melody plays, both soft and wild,
A tune to make the sternest beguiled.
The piper smiles, his mask grotesque,
His pipe a serpent, carved and blessed.
At the heart of the market lies a door,
A gate to realms unknown, obscure.
The Keeper waits with keys in hand,
To grant your wish or take your stand.
“One coin of blood, one coin of bone,
And I’ll show you the way to the Unknown.”
But as you near, the truth is clear—
The price is far too steep, my dear.
You flee the market, heart in throat,
Its eerie glow fades to a mote.
But whispers follow through the night,
The Night Market’s curse, your silent plight.
And when you sleep, in dreams you’ll find,
The Market waits within your mind.