I am going to tell you a strange tale of a small town,
Listen to me carefully, don’t once put your curiosity down,
Because inside you there is a eeire feeling that it’s going to invoke,
When you will dive into the weird legends of nemi folks!
While the modern life of a small town is mundane and boring,
Up above the dark forest Hill, many unexplained events are occurring,
In middle of a sterile clearing where only reddish unnatural thickets are growing.
It’s said! What goes there once, never find their way back,
Lost forever in the isolated barreness, their journey is always a set-back!
There is a lore about cursed hidden clan who worship Nemisis,
Our Sun’s lost cousin, doom of our existence as per the old prophecies,
Some say, the infamous red star never lost its dominion in a planetary quest,
But remained dormant, only appearing to few disciples but invisible to the rest!
The nemi folks appear like wodden stick figurines, defying earthly gravity,
They levitate up above their dark booded soil, to pray to their crimson deities,
They sway their branched arms into thick canopies to filter any ray of sunlight,
There world is red hued, where the nemisis rises and blesses the auburn blight!
So don’t lose your way into the deep forest,
Because as they watch, you will feel uncanny in your chest,
In their reign, even the elements of our nature stop their expressions,
If you enter their arid void, there is no escape under their suppression!
Some says they lure you into a trap by imitating familiar voices,
Some say they confuse a traveller’s way by altering their mind choices,
Some say they bend natural rule of time and space disobeying many logics,
Some say they appear as barren trees or stick monsters right on people’s scared faces!
They are known to steal your heart to fuel their unholy barren lands,
They will torment your soul until you can no further withstand,
Sacrificing your heart and soul to the bloody nemisis shrine,
They taint and transform you, into a fellow stick figurines!
But these are mythical lores that the living tell,
No survivors to validate, that’s why probably the fear sell,
Hence you pack your gears to find the truth, like a brave hard shell,
You are skeptical of the evil forces that some say still dwell,
Wake up now from the dellusion, you are prisoned in wodded arms that ragingly swell,
A stick phantom approaching, that terror in your eyes before your say your farewell!