In the eerie shroud of foggy embrace, Stands a lighthouse, a solitary space. Its beacon cuts through the misty veil, Guiding lost souls, a spectral tale.
On the edge of the lake, where shadows creep, A spectral presence, secrets to keep. The lighthouse stands tall, against the night, A haunting sight, a ghostly light.
Through swirling mists, its glow expands, A flickering guide from spectral hands. Its beam pierces through the murky air, Casting an ethereal glow, a spectral flare.
Amidst the stillness of the ghostly scene, Whispers of stories, whispers unforeseen. Legends of lost ships and souls gone astray, Echo in the night, in spectral display.
The lake's surface ripples with mystery deep, As spirits dance upon the water's keep. Silhouettes emerge, like phantoms in flight, Their ghostly presence, a haunting sight.
In the depths of the fog, the lighthouse stands, A sentinel of the unknown, guarding haunted lands. Its silhouette etched against the night sky, A beacon for lost souls passing by.
Spooky and alluring, this lighthouse in the mist, A spectral beauty, where the paranormal persist. Its presence a reminder of the otherworldly realm, Where spirits dwell, and ghostly tales overwhelm.
So venture forth into the fog's embrace, Where haunted secrets reside with grace. But heed the warning, as the lighthouse gleams, For in the haunted mist, reality teems.
In the spooky light of lakeside lore, The lighthouse beckons, forevermore. A ghostly sentinel, a spectral guide, In the haunting beauty, where mysteries reside.
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