HIS DEAR FACE

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In my heart, I know he is there.
Waiting for me, I have no fear.

Lost him so many years ago.
Tears have finally stopped to flow.

One day I will see his dear face,
But I cannot keep up this pace.

Living day to day without his love.
His warmth had fit me like a glove.

I must accept the sad fact
That he’s never coming back.

He will not be alone anymore.
My parents have now walked through that door.

I can feel him circling from above,
Reassuring me when I need love.

AN ISLAND UNTO MYSELF

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Do you ever feel alone?

No one listens to you.

No one understands your problems.

Thoughts rumble through your brain

but you have no one to share them with.

I might as well be on a desert island

with only water around me for miles.

A desert island all to myself.

The Thing Under My Bed

Source: The Thing Under My Bed

I love this! Perfect!
July 29, 2017
The Thing Under My Bed
What is this horrible scratching under my bed?

Could it be strange demons in my head?

Turning a dead-eye towards the other side

You can run and you can hide

But, the Evil will never subside

The noise underneath by bed increases in tone

As I lie here all alone

with darkness swirling all around me.

Terrified

Paralyzed in fear

Needing to shout …will anyone hear

When no sound comes out?

Exceptional shock as I feel something

touching my leg.

Shivering in pain and in fright

The tugging and scratching tip-toeing down my spine

Panic sets in as the uneasiness reaches a dreadful peak

So scared…only morbid thoughts I can speak

What is this thing under my box-springs?

Persistent clawing at the frame

Growling as Death lurks…oh, the song that it sings

Overwhelming, mind-numbing pain

Will somebody please…Please, HELP ME!

Breathing in gulps of shallow hopelessness

Dying, Dying…Flying in petrified worthlessness

This life…this death…Has it all been worth the risk?

Silent Fear

What is really here?

Beneath my bed and everywhere

What is this scratching comin’ from underneath?

BEHOLD!

The only sight that I can see

Comin’ from underneath

As my sweat soaked mattress, ever so tightly I squeeze

Is just a horrifying …

Portrait

Of

Me

©Timothy Grassan

HEARTACHE FOR ME

Linda heartache

Heartache is for me.
My heart yearns for thee.

Lies fall so easily from your lips.
They feel salty on my fingertips.

I must remain strong.
I hope I am wrong.

I need proof to trust you once more.
My heart is breaking at its core.

The salty mist soothes me.
The wind caresses me.

But I feel cold deep inside.
I need a safe place to hide.

SPOTLIGHT ON THE DEAD GAME

​This morning, ​I was pleasantly surprised by this spotlight. An excellent way to begin my weekend!

Caleb and Linda Pirtle
https://calebandlindapirtle.com/botm/dead-game-susanne-leist-2/

The Dead Game by Susanne Leist

Book Cover

The Dead Game brings fantasy and the surreal to the simple murder mystery.

After graduating college, Linda Bennett leaves New York for the slower-paced lifestyle of Oasis, Florida. She opens a bookstore and makes new friends. Life is simple that is until the dead body washes up onshore​.

She is horrified to learn that dead bodies and disappearing tourists are typical for this small town. Rumors abound of secret parties being held by the original residents in their secluded mansions. Once night falls, the tourist-friendly town becomes a haven for evil and dark shadows. But this is only the beginning.

Linda and the other young residents receive an unsigned invitation to a party at End House, the deserted house in the forest behind town; a house with its own violent history. They are pursued through revolving rooms and dangerous traps, barely escaping with their lives. Two of their own remain trapped inside. Or so they think.

It’s up to Linda and her friends to search out The Dead and find the evil one controlling their once peaceful community. Can they trust the Sheriff and his best friend, Todd?

THE DEAD GAME has begun.

From Susanne Leist:

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I’ve always loved to read. I grew up reading Agatha Christie, Alistair Maclean and so many other authors who filled my imagination with intrigue and mystery. The TV show, Murder She Wrote, kept me entertained when I wasn’t reading late into the night.

Over the years, my taste in books expanded to include the supernatural and paranormal genres, which has been reflected in my selection of shows, such as Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries, and The Originals.

My first book, The Dead Game, is a paranormal suspense/mystery. It brings fantasy and the surreal to the simple murder mystery. It has dead bodies and suspects.

However, it also has humans, vampires, vampire derivatives, and ​a touch of romance to spice up the mix.​

Review by Diane Murier:

The Dead Game never quits. It takes off like a rocket through skies that may or may not be real, and it ends in fantastical possibilities that burrow into the secret earth. But throughout, there’s the mysterious, sexy, brown-eyed Todd and the responsive and curious heroine Linda.

Can they ever get off of the diabolical crazy train long enough to take care of business?

Hmmm. You’ll have to read it for yourself. A town with so many questions raised by a mile of bizarre events is worth a closer look. And creepy mansions are elevated to a new level that supersedes the merely haunted houses of days gone by.

The Dead Game. Humans are invited to the party, but just who or what you will be by its end is part of the gruesome fun. Get the book!

IT’S BEGUN

 

tunnel

 

The staircase gives way.
Linda slides into its deadly grasp.
A tunnel envelopes her.
Hands reach out for her.

Will I reach the bottom?
Is there even a bottom to this madness?
Who lives beneath End House?
Will I become one of them?

Into the unyielding darkness 
Comes the cry, “Stop!”
Linda looks up to find Todd and Shana,
Clinging to the rocky walls.

The staircase reappears.
They climb to the front door.
Linda pulls on the handle.
It won’t budge.

“Open!” echoes in the hallway.
At Todd’s command,
The door opens for them.
The house pushes them out,
Slamming the door behind them.

Too terrified to glance back at Todd,
Linda races ahead to the car.
I can’t believe I was actually
Falling for him.

Linda’s problems have just begun.

THE DEAD GAME

THE DARK STREETS OF TOWN

mostlyitaly:
“  Altamura (Apulia, Italy) by Dauno Settantatre
”
Dark are the streets
By which they creep.
Silence is their goal.
Through the town, they go.
Bodies left behind,
Blood-dry we will find.
Church bells are tolling,
And heads are...

Altamura (Apulia, Italy) by Dauno Settantatre

 

Dark are the streets

By which they creep.

Silence is their goal.

Through the town, they go.

Bodies left behind,

Blood-dry we will find.

Church bells are tolling,

And heads are rolling.

Flee from this we must

Before we are dust.

 

THE DEAD GAME

 

Introducing SusanneLeist, Author of The Dead Game

Life As You Know It Blog presents:

Hello, bloggers!

It’s another grand week, which means we are shining some light on some more fabulous guests! Today, I would like to introduce you to Susanne Leist, Author of THE DEAD GAME.


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I’ve always been an avid reader. About ten years ago, I decided to write my first book. I grew up on Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes, but the supernatural called to me and enticed me. I wanted to write a book with all the sarcasm and wit of the TV show, Supernatural, the mystery of a classic murder mystery, and the sensational thrills of the TV show, The Originals. I sat down with these goals in mind and wrote, The Dead Game.

*  *  *

book banner
THE DEAD GAME– A short Synopsis

Linda moves to a small town to live a quieter and simpler life. She opens a bookstore and makes new friends. Life is simple–that is until the dead body washes up on shore. Linda is horrified to find out dead bodies and disappearing tourists are common for this town. As soon as the sun sets, she and her friends are stalked by dark shadows. But this is only the beginning.

Linda and her group receive an unsigned invitation to a party at the deserted house on the hill. They are afraid of the unfriendly hill residents, who only venture out of their homes at night. They attend the party. They are pursued through revolving rooms and dangerous traps, barely escaping with their lives. Two of their own remain trapped in the house. Or so they think.

The Dead Game has begun.

*  *  *

I wrote a poem for my book. I spent eight years writing The Dead Game. It deserves its own poem…

ODE TO MY BOOK

Nothing can be as fine
As the dear book of mine.
It might not be sold in a big bookstore,
But you will not find one to offer more.
It was created with much love and hope,
Even though it wasn’t blessed by a Pope.
It has my blood, sweat, and tears.
Might raise many of your fears.
It has action, murder, and romance.
I can even do a little dance.
Please try it and you’ll see
It has the best of me. 

*  *  *

I was trained as a Financial Analyst. I have an M.B.A. in Finance. What made me decide to give this up and pursue a writing career? A feeling deep inside.

I have a poem that describes my journey…

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

To be or not to be a writer.

This has been the hardest question for me.
Should I continue with my pursuit,
Or step away and claim defeat?
One book has been written.
One book is being sold.
It dances around on Amazon and Nook.
It reaches new heights in its niche
And then slowly bows its head in silence.
The highs feel good and lofty,
While the lows feel depressing and sad.
Is it worth it? 
I am told that a writer must keep writing.
More books to dance around.
More highs and lows.
Should I keep doing this?
Will I keep doing this? 
Yes, for now
As I wait for the next high. 

*  *  *

What can I say about my book? I have a poem…

MY BEAUTIFUL TOWN

Oh, beautiful town of mine,
With beaches and white sand so fine.
Views to take your breath away,
For this, tourists want to pay.
Oasis, a perfect name for you,
Waving palm trees and skies so blue. 
But come night bets are off,
Once The Dead chop heads off.
I don’t want to move from here,
But I can’t live with this fear.
Please help rid the town of The Dead,
Then I could sleep safely in my bed.

*  *  * 

One more poem, before I say goodbye…

From under the sea,
they have come for me.
Rising from the deep
they come when I sleep.
Through the small town, they roam
looking for a new home.
Blending with tourists at day
but at night they get to play.
Blood-thirsty as they are
they don’t have to go far.
They take sustenance within reach
leaving dead bodies on the beach.
Tourists flee the hotel
before they’re doomed to hell.
The evil one walks tall.
Our town will surely fall.

THE DEAD GAME

*  *  *

THESE ARE MY LINKS:

Goodreads
Twitter
Amazon
Facebook 1
Facebook 2
Facebook 3
Google+
WordPress
Blogspot
Tumblr

Come and join me.

Thank you, for joining me today. You’re invited to visit my sites and blogs, and of course, to purchase my book.

*  *  *

 

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle
Nook


Thanks so much for stopping by today. Please help in supporting Susanne with likes, shares, and comments. And don’t forget to check out her book!!

Until next time……………………………………Stay Creative!!!

THE LAST TREE STANDING

I face the wind.
Each day I wait.
Time passes.
I wait for the world to change.
People come and go.
I hear sounds of trees falling
and cries of animals dying.
The rolling hills are replaced by buildings,
monstrous symbols to mankind.
Fewer trees dot...

 

 

I face the wind.

Each day I wait.

Time passes.

I wait for the world to change.

People come and go.

I hear sounds of trees falling

and cries of animals dying.

The rolling hills are replaced by buildings,

monstrous symbols to mankind.

Fewer trees dot the naked landscape.

Dirty water fills the lakes and ocean.

Mankind has changed the world

in irreversible ways.

Stop before it’s too late.

I refuse to be the last tree standing.

 

WHO SITS THERE?

Who sits on my shelf each night? Who casts shadows on my bedroom wall? I move closer. I must see what it is. The head moves. Its hood falls back. A doll’s face appears. A yellow glow in the darkness. Red eyes turn to me. Burning a hot hole right...

 (Source: stone-pig)

 

 

Who sits on my shelf

each night?

Who casts shadows

on my bedroom wall?

I move closer.

I must see what it is.

The head moves.

Its hood falls back.

A doll’s face appears.

A yellow glow

in the darkness.

Red eyes turn to me.

Burning a hole

through my heart.