Grey stone on Grey ground
Here had been a fire
Soot clung to the wet stone bricks
Ashes swirled
moving as one entity, pulsing with the breath of the wind

It gaped at me, this hole in the iced ground
A mouth condemned to a life of nothing but screams

The rough, jagged bricks bared
The thick ivy arched
The wind whisked past

I heard it
a tortured
consistant
screech

And I understood