Psycroptic

Darkened waters, lying before me, many secrets, that we cant see, a strange
ferry, guided by a corpse, takes me to an island where I must– Survive!
I cannot see, for the mist is too thick, the ferryman's face, rotting making
me sick. As we enter the island, through a rocky cove, I can hear the
screams of a thousand lost souls, they don't know where they are.
Suddenly we stop at a wharf, made of bones and pieces of quartz, the corpse
points to a distant light. I see fire so I head up the rise, the hill before
me is so steep.
I'm glad I've got claws on my feet, the path ahead is getting wide. I see a
tunnel in the mountainside– I can hear them breathing as I'm pulling tighter
on the chains that are wrapped around their necks, drawing them closer to
the opening of the cave.
They don't know the horror that awaits them. I hope that they don't die,
before they reach the hole, by now– they know– that something is going
wrong. I can feel my own heart beating faster as we get nearer to my home.