IT TAUNTS ME

 

 

Horror taunts me.

It creeps closer.

I can feel it,

taste it.

It surrounds me.

I’m sealed in a coffin.

Dirt sinks me deeper.

A crack of light appears.

A peek at my tormentor.

A glimpse of hell.

BURIED IN TIME

 

 

 

Secrets buried in the sand hold

hidden memories of lives gone by.

Unearthed remains tell a story.

Dug up pottery paint a picture.

Lives in the past merge with the future.

Differences become insignificant.

Time becomes transient.

The cycle begins again.

Days flow into weeks.

Weeks into years.

Years to centuries.

Centuries fly by.

Nothing is new.

The cycle continues.

Our past becomes our future.

Until the sands of time bury our existence.

Then our future becomes our past.

And the cycle begins again.

NO WAY OUT

 

 

Lost in a field of daisies.

Falling between the stalks.

Covered by their leaves.

Pulled down by their roots.

Darkness buries me.

Dirt envelopes me.

Illusion becomes reality.

A nightmare becomes hell.

No way out for me.

Only the faces of daisies.

 

THE DEAD love their games.

THE DEAD GAME

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(Source: vwcampervan-aldridge)

 

BURY IT

Source: 

 

Bury it.

Far below the earth.

Into the darkness.

Bury it deep.

Before it’s too late.

Let it sink into the dungeons.

Bury it now.

Away from humanity.

Beyond The Dead’s reach.

Bury the door.

Beyond The Dead’s control.

Say no prayers.

Let it go.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle
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Nook
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WHO AM I?

 

 

 

Who am I?

Who was I?

A man.

A woman.

A doctor.

A soldier.

Maybe a murderer.

Does it matter?

Does it matter anymore?

We all end up the same.

Underground.

Buried.

But it is how we are

remembered

that matters.

Our memory lingers on.

Be remembered as a

doctor,

soldier,

or murderer.

It’s your choice.

ENTOMBED

Falling beneath the town.

In a blue haze of ice.

Chilled to the bone.

Frozen to the core.

Sliding past skeletons.

Entombed for posterity.

Leading me farther.

Into the womb of hell.

Where Wolf waits.

With his family.

Book 2 can’t come soon enough.

THE DEAD GAME

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http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

Source:

STANDS ALONE

Deserted staircase

 

The house stands

alone and deserted,

dark and forlorn.

The moon casts its glow

through the tall windows.

Shadows fall on the

shiny wood floors.

Mice scurry from sight.

Dust flies through the air.

The wind whistles through

the cavernous rooms.

Rooms that had once held people,

furniture, and signs of life.

Signs of laughter and hope.

Now the house sits alone and dark.

What could have brought it

to such an end?

Has death entered this house?

Bringing with it sickness and sorrow.

Or has the family simply moved away?

A house holds secrets,

close to its heart.

Secrets that lie buried

beneath its floors

and foundation.

Be careful where you dig.

You might not like

what you find.