In the land of Esperance lived a Cursed Three:
A princess, a misfit, and Death’s small prodigy.
Though some have perished in this cherished land,
Awaiting final judgment, the Three are forced to stand.
Yet Esperance’s gnarled and withering hands
Still shall welcome you within.
To the Underworld’s depths we first must descend,
Plunge into liquid darkness at life’s end,
To find the little girl that Death has claimed,
Zenobia, princess of nothing, is now her given name.
Pulsating in the pitch black, her heart fights to beat,
Golden marionette strings tugging at her bare feet.
Follow after her to Death’s grand dining hall.
This is where we’ll witness Zenobia’s daily meal.
Picked by two guards made from yellowing bone,
Succulent berries rest on plates of precious stones.
Shimmering goblets of crystal are filled to the brim;
White wine aged for eons glistens by the rim.
Delicate pieces of meat jut up from a dish,
Picked clean of bones by bones sits the fish.
“These are the things on which a human must dine.”
Death’s orders must be dutifully followed by the line.
Now we go to a home coated by sugar and fear;
A home approached by none privy of who truly lives here.
Colorful gumdrops dot the brown wafer roof.
A sugary mansion calls to all with a sweet tooth.
Smooth licorice twists around pillars of fudge,
Taffy mortar makes sure that the house won’t budge.
Behind the rock candy sheets that are window panes
Lies a pair of great eyes wanting you to remain.
With nails and hair that all drip to the floor,
The Witch of the Woods hopes you’ll step through her door.
The price you must pay for a bite of her lair?
A trip to her cauldron after days of despair.
But if you are lucky and don’t see her house,
You still might be met by a girl like a mouse.
“Come see the treats that I have in store.”
If you follow, you’ll be seen nevermore.
So instead come with me to the castle of Livor.
Mind your step for there’s blood on the floor.
Chandeliers overhead and executions down below.
While their people run dry, the royals overflow.
Rounding a corner, we see a fine spread
On the long table surrounded by heads.
Here is where Princess Ruta and her father sit,
Picking away at the fallen, bit by bit.
Roasted pheasant and platters of spiced capercaillie,
Hot beef paired with mustard, butter, and honey,
Red wine spilling and surrounding the feast,
Bloodstained fingers maneuver with ease.
As you and the Wicked enjoy your grand meal,
Mind your manners lest you catch her steel.
The blade of the guillotine beckons from outside,
So be polite and open wide.
Finally, our frightening journey has come to an end.
Esperance bids you farewell—won’t you visit again?
Thanks for stopping by to share your food for thought, Brittany!
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