THE ECHO OF FOOTSTEPS

Night comes slowly.

Footsteps fall softly.

Boats drift on the water.

A cat meows.

Footsteps hit closer.

Noise by the garbage can.

A splash in the water.

Footsteps echo louder.

An oar hits the water.

Chains rattle.

More steps.

I turn.

A flash of light.

Footsteps halt.

A boat sits in the dark water,

Filled with flowers

And my true love.

PAST THE POINT OF NO RETURN

Down the rabbit hole we go,

Far beneath the earth’s surface,

Where The Dead wait for their savior,

Arms extended,

Reaching for us,

Mouths held open in silent cries

As we fall farther,

Deeper,

Past the point of no return.

THE DEAD GAME

VACATION FROM HELL

Death has reached our shore.
More playtime in store.
A vacation this will not be,
But a horror for you and me.

♦THE DEAD GAME♦
by Susanne Leist

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BLOOD MOON

 

Blood Moon

Source: 021c

 

 

Red reflects on the water

 

what we feel in our hearts.

 

As the day comes to an end,

 

we must face the night.

 

Turn not your face away.

 

Dare not take a step back.

 

Bear the brunt of the red moon

 

as it burns through your empty soul.

SEND IN THE CLOWNS

Daniel Merriam

 

I open my eyes to strange creatures.

Why are they in my bedroom?

Their thrill laughter makes my skin crawl.

They wave knives at me.

I need to escape.

I can’t.

I’m tied to my bed.

They move closer.

I close my eyes.

Silence fills the room.

I slit my eyes open.

The room is now empty.

I glance at my chair in the corner.

A red balloon is tied to it.

Oh no.

THE DARK ALLEY

nature/vintage blog

 

I step from the restaurant

where there had been light.

Now there is only darkness,

and no stars in sight.

 

I hear footsteps in the distance.

Dark shadows move and sway.

Steps echo louder in the dark.

I bow my head and pray.

 

I run to the light.

Then I’m falling down.

My face to the ground.

My world, upside down.

 

I lift my head.

Black shoes before me.

The lights go out.

Darkness now claims me.

 

MANY HAVE GONE

RED EYES

Source:

 

 

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 through me.

 

THE WASHING MACHINE

 

 

I’m having a bad dream,

no, maybe a nightmare,

of a washing machine.

 

It wakes me up at night.

It rumbles and whispers.

I hope it won’t take flight.

 

It’s moving and grooving

to a beat of its own,

that is far from soothing.

 

It’s a horrible sight.

A machine set to hard.

It’s ready for a fight.

 

I scream into my pillow.

“My clothing is all too clean,”

then I weep like a willow.