“It was a place where the only illumination was like the the light from the sun filtered down through the depths of the sea, it was a place where the water was thick and the trees were bent and wounded. There are things that live there, stunted figures with skin like old scabs that sang at the feet of a faceless priest.”-Brian Foster
“O’er the midnight moorlands crying.
Thro’ the cypress forests sighing.
In the night-wind madly flying.
Hellish forms with streaming hair;
In the barren branches creaking.
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking.
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking,
Damn’d demons of despair.”-‘Despair’ by HP Lovecraft