The Haunted Catacombs of Ellora (Poetic Prose, by: Dlsiluk)

The Haunted Catacombs
Of Ellora



The dark, deep haunted Catacombs of Ellora never see the light of day, Here, all cease to speak, but a few muffled echoes in prayer, in the keep, the cave temples and monasteries deep in the bowls of the earth (of the fifth century AD), here the ripples of time seek harmony. Here, once represented the epitome of Indian rock-cutting, hollowed out from the face of the Charanandri hills. Time remains stagnant in these temples, cut out of rock, chained together by neck and feet (where once, Buddhist, Hindu and Jain priests, uttered in darkness and solitude: this is where—the dungeon keeper sleeps.

“Nay, nay!” cries the Dungeon Keeper, long dead, from his stone cut bed, now his coffin. The tall granite walls now speak for him, the dark secrets, where once indomitable spirits dominated, now lurk and weep, looming like wingless bats from cave to cave in madness, waiting for new guests Down here in the deep, catacombs of Ellora where still the dungeon keeper sleeps…

These tall carved walls, carved out of the vertical face of the Charanandri hills, have a pulse, instinctively they groan, and moan, for the return of the Dungeon Keeper’s bones, as they run loose with mayhem throughout the Catacombs, in sweet revenge for their once sweet friend, the Dungeon Keeper, waiting, just waiting for guest, for revenge, for mayhem.

Note: 9-5-2010 (2776)