Old Whipplewheet
In the dark, lonesome town of Old Whipplewheet, Where the stars often glimmer yet give off no heat, There lived a young lad by the name of Ned Byggs, Who wore curious caps and ate curious figs.
Now Whipplewheet, oh, it was a most curious place, Full of nooks and of crannies and creatures with grace. But at twilight, dear friends, those same creatures would change, Taking forms that a sane mind would deem very strange.
Young Ned had a keen nose for adventure and lore, And he'd heard countless tales of the cavernous shore, Where the sea met the land in a beastly embrace And the waves seemed to whisper of worlds out in space.
With his lantern in hand and his shoes laced up tight, Ned set out to discover the truth of the night. Through the woods he did wander, 'neath gnarled, ancient trees, Till he came to the shore, with its cryptic, cool breeze.
The moon overhead shone with eldritch delight, Casting shadows that danced in the uncanny night. In the distance a structure loomed grim and severe, A castle of stone causing spirits to veer.
Ned Byggs, though still young, was of fortitude grand, And he stepped through the gates with his lantern in hand. Onward he trekked, past old tapestries torn, Of gods long forgotten and realities worn.
Down a staircase he went, into dungeons so deep, Where the air was as cold as an eternal sleep. In the heart of the darkness, a portal stood there, A gateway to realms beyond human compare.
From the portal there rose an ineffable song, Calling to Ned like he'd known it all along. Then out from the portal came beings most dire, With eyes full of cosmos and writhing like fire.
Creatures from tales that had sparked Ned's descent, With textures and colors that could break a man's sense. Yet young Ned stood his ground, with a heart full of awe, For these were the marvels that older folks saw.
"Come with us," they did beckon, "to lands of the dream, Where the mountains do murmur and time forms a stream. See the wonders unseen by your kind's timid eyes, Float with us, young Ned Byggs, across the starry skies."
Without hesitation, Ned took the grand leap, Into realms where the vistas would make strong men weep. He soared through the voids, past the galaxies' fires, To places where time sounded like ghostly lyres.
In the end, dear old Whipplewheet waited alone, With no Ned to return through the woods overgrown. Yet the skies of that town ever since have been bright, With the dreams of young Ned, who still wanders the night.
So remember, dear reader, when adventure draws near, Sometimes it's the strange paths that eclipse simple fear. The universe teems with its wonders concealed, Just waiting for you to make them revealed.