Dracula

Tha castle stands tall and proud, amidst rock and stone.
Glazed with a silver mist, and draped in ancient webs.
A single light flickers in a high tower, showing where he resides.
His loathsome laugh shatters the silence, and taking their que
the wolves howl and bark with delight.
For they alone saw his shadow creep across the grounds,
with a sack that was filled with his food.
A sharp wail erupts from the tall tower,
while the laughing grows louder still.
He can be as loud as he pleases, for no one is near to hear.
The wailing grows as the poor soul grows wary of its fate.
It shrieks and cries for mother to come, but she is already dead.
The wolves have enjoyed their supper tonight,
and they lick their blood stained lips.
He has had his fill as well, ashe crawls into his coffin.
His cheeks are stained red, and the wailing has stopped.
It has stopped forever more in Count Dracula's castle.