ALONE IN A CEMETERY

cemetery shadows

ALONE IN A CEMETERY

The mist paints a grey.

Hissing winds sound fey.

The trees sway in tune

Under the blue moon.

With long robes, they sweep toward me.

Darker shadows they cannot be.

A statue looms in the distance.

I cannot offer resistance.

An angel turns her face to me.

A wicked grin for all to see.

Her white wings spread wide.

Time for me to hide.

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A PERFECT PLACE

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A PERFECT PLACE TO BE

A more beautiful place cannot be.
It faces the waves of the dark sea.
White sand and quiet beaches galore.
You can’t ask for anything more.

Life is perfect as can be.
Come and frolic with me.
Tourists visit from far and wide.
Oasis is Florida’s pride.

Beware when The Dead descend.
We can no longer pretend
This is a perfect place to be
As The Dead rise up from the sea.

THE DEAD GAME

SHADOWS IN THE WOODS

woods

❈ Grim Aesthetics ❈

SHADOWS IN THE WOODS

The full moon casts its harsh light,

Spotlights to the left and right.

Shadows drift in the trees.

Some even on their knees.

On the shallow lake,

they cast their cold gaze.

Reflections of bones

Flicker in the haze.

While the small town sleeps,

They walk the dark streets.

They ready for their fight.

Their march a deadly sight.

Soft snores won’t deter them.

Children’s cries won’t halt them.

From the woods, they have come.

They will return as one.

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

THE DEAD AND GONE

black sparkle rose

THE DEAD AND GONE

A town where the snow is black,
bringing coldness and fear.
Old remnants of tears held back,
and times too hard to bear.

Woven from black sheets of rain,
fear covers in disarray.
Anguished and frozen with pain,
dark petals fall in dismay.

Hell has come to Oasis,
The Dead and gone at its side.
Now hidden behind faces
that are well-known far and wide.

Who will fall prey to The Dead?
I hope it is not me.
I’m hiding under my bed.
I’m afraid as I can be.

THE DEAD GAME
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AFTERNOON DELIGHT

1 Fantasies are a way of life

“Come back to me my sweet.
Take a break from the heat.
An afternoon in a cool retreat.
We could make our own special heat.”
The wood door rattles and creaks open wide.
I hesitate before I walk inside.
The small room is as dark as night.
I begin to tremble with fright.
Maybe I should leave this place.
The door slams shut in my face.
I hear the voice in the air
Telling me, “what fair is fair.”
I intruded on this secret room,
​And so I won’t be leaving too soon.

THE RETURN

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I’m over here.

I can smell your fear.

You won’t be alone.

I can hear your moan.

I’ll be rising soon

On the next full moon.

I’ll rise from down under​

On lightning and thunder.

You will not recognize me.

I’ll be different you see.

My new body is strong.

Now do not get me wrong.

I still love you, my dear.

Of that please have no fear.

THE DEAD GAME continues

MIDNIGHT AT THE OASIS

Midnight at the Oasis

e-e-r-i-n-e-s-s:

Nosferatu (1922)

The clock chimes midnight.

Time stands​ still.

The music stops.

Dancers freeze in place.

All is quiet.

The clock chimes twelve times.

The music resumes.

Dancing continues without a hitch.

The Dead have assumed control.

THE DEAD GAME has begun.

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN

Off to the gingerbread house, ​we go
On this fine fall day.
The country road yawns before us,
Pointing the way with pebbled arms.

Shana is laughing up a storm,
Similar to the one building around us.
Swirling gusts lead us by the hand
To a cottage made not by man.

The house floats in a dewy gauze of its own,
Shielded from any attacks or storms.
It glistens and shimmers in the fading light
As we draw closer to its unfailing might.

The front door opens at our approach,
An extended arm our only invitation.
I want to leave but Shana says,
“Linda, let’s see who lives inside.”

Before I could answer she walks in,
Leaving me alone in the dying day.
Pebbles unearth themselves in my direction
Until I’m forced to seek shelter inside.

An older couple wait for us,
Wearing clothes from days long gone.
They show us around their unusual home,
Where rooms are shrines to their grown children.

We are led to the attic to find a lone rocking chair,
Facing the forest and deserted country road.
The woman explains they are The Watchers,
Protecting the town from errant vampires.

My ears are ringing and my heart is pounding
As I listen to her words in disbelief.
She says there’s always a Watcher
Sitting in the rocking chair.

We don’t know whether to believe her story
But the chair begins to rock on its own.
​We flee the scene of our worst nightmare,
Determined never to return to this awful place.

Our games have just begun.

THE DEAD GAME

BLOOD

1 Nights come alive

I’m surrounded by blood,
Blood on the walls
And flowing through my veins.

Blood is thicker than water
And much more intense
As it trickles and oozes as it pleases.

It flows through family members
Like a disease that can’t be stopped,
Bringing with it torment and anguish.

I can’t escape the
Fingers crawling down the walls
And circling around me.

My only recourse is escape
From the walls caving in
As I tunnel my way out.

I want to be free from the evil
Destroying me from within,
Free from the despair and agony.

THE DEAD GAME

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