BLACK AS NIGHT

cat eyes roses

Dark as death,
Black as the night,
The evil one has come
For me tonight.

My heart pounds a beat.
He sees me and more.
He walks the dark street.
At night he’s the lore.

I cannot run.
I cannot even hide.
He knows my secrets.
He knows where I hide.

The roses are wilting.
They crumble​ in despair.
Their faces are tilting
Only black as they tear.

He has no footsteps.
He walks with the winds.
His body whispers past me.
Soft in the trade winds​.

He takes me in flight,
Up to the laughing moon.
I can’t see his face.
I’ll be his all too soon.

I close my eyes in defeat.
His cold lips crush mine.
I search for a way to retreat.
I search for a sign.​

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN

THE DEAD GAME

Advertisements

HE HAS COME FOR ME

evil one

HE HAS COME FOR ME

Do my eyes deceive me?
Can this be true?
A creature is stalking me
Through the dark streets.

Eyes black as night,
Cries as soft as the wind,
Sharp claws tapping a sad melody.
It draws closer to me still.

The mansion’s gates yawn open.
My feet leave tracks in the mud,
Handprints where I fall in my haste.
Salty tears splash on the rocks.

The mansion waits in its dark glory
For the innocent and weary.
It sheds its shell like a caterpillar,
But no butterfly does it become.

The creature gains ground,
A stalker in its feline prance.
Whiskers pointed to the wind,
Skulking closer to me.

One last stumble for me
As my knees graze the rocks.
My fingers climb the steps,
Digging deep into the dirt.

I turn one last time.
The dark one stands up,
Reaching its full height.
On two feet it stands tall.

Yellow eyes glisten in the dark,
No whiskers to follow my scent.
White skin for black fur,
Laughter falls from his lips.

He has come for me,
Walking on muscled legs.
Sure and strong is his gait
For no more does he crawl.

“Come to me!” he says.​
“No more games for us to play.”
His hand reaches for mine
As I back away from his touch.

“I refuse to belong to you.”
My voice shakes in despair.
I will not follow him
To the land of beyond.

The house swallows me whole.
A maze of rooms for shelter,
I am hidden inside its walls.
Darkness shields​ me from harm.

THE DEAD GAME

WHY DO WE WRITE?

writing: imagination

WHY DO WE WRITE?

Our minds want more.
We need to explore the world.
To explore the unknown.

If we can’t fulfill our dreams in our daily lives,
Then we can fulfill them in our writing.
Stories about love, evil creatures, and deadly games.

I’ve always wanted to live in a small town.
So I created a small town in my book
And called it, Oasis.

I love to read books.
The main character moves to Oasis
And opens a bookstore.

You get the idea.
The main character, Linda,
Is living my dream life.

My mind takes a dark turn.
Life is too good and care-free.
Oasis needs a darker side.

The original residents live in a forest
And only come out at night.
This is when the fun and games begin.

Do you see where this is going?
If not, you can always read my book.
I finally got my small town,
Where fantasies come true,
And some just don’t.

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

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

 

THE DEAD ARE HERE TO STAY

beach scene

 

Look at the pretty sky.
Such beauty way up high.
Clouds drifting by so slowly
Like a shrine to what’s holy.
All of this will soon come to an end.
Don’t bother to search for a friend.
The moon will rise up in the night sky
Into the danger from what lurks high.
Dark shadows will descend onto the sand.
Shrieking louder than a marching band.
What do they want from our peaceful town?
Death and mayhem–all served with a frown.
Run for your life if you still can.
Danger for each and every man.
The Dead are here to stay.
They did not come to play.


THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj
myBook.to/TheDeadGame

RISING FROM THE DEEP

coiour-my-world:
“ moonstruck
”
Rising from the deep,
caressed by the moon.
Chest heaving.
Red eyes gleaming,
facing the shore.
Arms of steel
part the waves.
Muscular legs
pump the sand.
Head tilted back
to give a mighty roar.
A beauty to behold.
A...

 

coiour-my-world:

 

Rising from the deep,

caressed by the moon.

Chest heaving.

Red eyes gleaming,

facing the shore.

Arms of steel

part the waves.

Muscular legs

pump the sand.

Head tilted back

to give a mighty roar.

A beauty to behold.

A deadly presence to face.

Pounding footsteps

follow close behind.

Eating up the miles to town,

where Oasis will stand no more.

THE DEAD GAME

 

Book Review: The Dead Game by Susanne Leist

Book 1 in Series 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 on shore. She is horrified …

Source: Book Review: The Dead Game by Susanne Leist

Now on ASKDAVID.COM
Buy it.
Review it.
Enjoy the thrills.
Enjoy the fun.

A LOVE PECK

 

 

I walk quickly this night

from who lurks out of sight.

The wind gives a whistle and a sigh

as strands of my hair begin to fly.

The moon hides its face.

I pick up my pace.

Shadows surround me.

Footsteps behind me.

Hands around my neck.

Is that a love peck?

He is taking my blood.

I die in a red flood.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj