The chants were audible only to the serpents. The wails of the trapped moon in the mossy pond were muted by green envious claws. Then, lunacy turned into a bubble and escaped through the orifice, before it closed and positioned on the ancient, dim alleyways; it grew aged and gray like a man and howled. The fallen souls gathered around the mossy covers developed tentacles to reach the submerged moon.
The chants transpired and became manifested as snakes. They slithered over and unsheathed the mossy blocks with serpentine ruptures.
A rapturous moon waited for darkness to fall to stealthily make its way.
The terrain shrugged as the hiding ones behind the betel leaves became bats, now perched on the vines, unwarily jumped in to the crystal pond in ravenous spirits, to drown in absolute freedom.
The chants had not stopped but the howls had. The snakes crawled into the wholes of its subtle, unseen presence.
The moon, reluctant to depart, lingered in the pond and reflected on another one, up in the skies.