Infamous, not famous
now that it's crumbled to dust.
Remnants scattered along the streets
of the windy city.
Before the Great War
or the Titanic's sinking,
wind blew across the great lake
unto a heaven on earth.

A glittering beacon on the shore
sat waiting, enticing.
It shined, attracting moths and butterflies
into its buzzing, startling light.
A castle's white walls, high, so high
they cast shadows miles longer.

Hiding in the crevices,
the dark haunts near the white city,
there lied the hotel.

The bricks and doors are out of place.
No light from the shimmering city
filters through its grimy windows.
The hidden rooms, hallways
house foul smells,
urine and the rot of decaying bodies in the basement,
scurrying rats, and something
much more hideous.

Murder haunts the corridors,
young girls screaming, choking.
Just looking for work near the fair,
trapped in a nightmare
where there is no waking up.