My fingers touch my face.
They glisten crimson
in the fading light.
Red drops hit the ground
from my moist lips.
I feel parched.
A thirst I’ve never felt before.
I look around at the fallen bodies.
Throats ripped open.
Sightless eyes open.

(Source: m0rbid-things)



My fingers touch my face.

They glisten crimson

in the fading light.

Red drops hit the ground

from my moist lips.

I feel parched.

A thirst I’ve never felt before.

I look around at the fallen bodies.

Throats ripped open.

Sightless eyes open.

I’ve become one of them.


The Dead Game





Linda was caught in a nightmare that she couldn’t escape from. It felt too real to be a nightmare but she couldn’t wake up.

     She chose the Fun House. She stepped into a room full of mirrors that made her multiple reflections appear distorted and unreal. She couldn’t figure out why she’d run into the Fun House if in every horror movie the victims were always portrayed as being terrorized there. She hoped this wasn’t another game of The Dead. She was determined to locate an exit, but found only mirrors and more mirrors; they made her dizzy. Her distorted reflections stared back at her—as if they were distinct entities, united against her, instead of her own creations.

     She ran until she crashed head-first through a mirror, into a dark place with no beginning or end. The whole experience felt unreal to her—as if she were lost in a different dimension. Behind this mirror, she encountered a man with a white mask and empty holes for eyes, laughing at her. When he touched her arm, she realized that he was real and not just a reflection.

     She fled from the laughing man, going deeper and deeper into the dark unknown. She looked back and noticed creatures following close behind her. Some were bats and some were dark shadows, but all were reaching for her. She hoped that these weren’t the same shadows from town that had been haunting her for weeks.

      She hit something hard and fell down. So maybe this place did have an end. She raced away with her hands out, hoping to find the mirror that had caused her to enter this dark hell. Ahead of her in the distance, she glimpsed a shiny surface. As she got closer, she realized it was the mirror, patiently waiting for her. I hope this wasn’t a trap.

     She decided to step through the mirror and worry about the consequences afterward. She had always been afraid of the dark. She wondered how these creatures knew her fears—unless it wasn’t real, but just a figment of her imagination. She stuck her hand out and found that it flowed right through the glass. She followed her hand and crawled through the mirror.

     She found herself back in the house by the sea. She was in the main hall, looking up at a long flight of stairs. She raced up the stairs and ran through the deserted rooms. The house was empty of any people or furnishings. All she could hear were her heels clicking on the shiny wood floors.

     Fearing that she was caught in an endless loop like the one at End House, she hurried back down the stairs, all the way down to the basement. Since the top two floors were empty, she decided to try the basement—even though basements were also popular in horror stories, which was exactly what she was in.

     The basement was empty. The floor she was standing on began to rotate around and around. She reached up to grab hold of something to help her climb off the revolving circle, but there was nothing: the walls were wet and slippery. As she tried to escape, she found herself falling deeper and deeper into the dark hole. The only thing she remembered before she lost consciousness was the sound of a man’s evil laughter as he chanted the words over and over, “It’s not over. I’ll be back.”

The Dead Game by Susanne Leist



The house has come alive.

A thick darkness descending.

Snakes slithering in their cages.

Man-eating plants standing at attention.

Tree limbs grabbing my arms.

Roots wrapping around my legs.

The greenery moving closer.

The door drifting farther away.

Will we make it in time?

Before we’re trapped.

What’s next?








The air moves.



The trees shake.

I shouldn’t have come alone.

In the dark.

After the sun sets.

The moon rises.

And so do The Dead.






The water sparkles.

A bottomless pit.

Shadows of tree limbs

drift along its murky surface.

It snatches pieces of debris

on its journey down river.

Rocks, branches, leaves…

fall into its dark abyss.

Something is moving.

A hand.

Reaches for me.

An inky black hand.

What should I do?


Two arms.

A dark figure

emerges from the water.

Too big to be human.

It’s facing me.

It doesn’t have eyes.

A dark shadow,

dripping inky slime.

It roars.

It walks toward me.

I want to run.

I want to hide.

But I can’t.

My feet are stuck to the ground.

More roaring sounds.

More creatures are rising.

Is this real?

Am I dreaming?

All becomes quiet.

No roaring.

What happened?

“What are you doing?”

I turn around.

I’m standing in front

of the TV screen.

My friends stare back at me.

I’m blocking a horror movie.

I feel embarrassed.

I feel myself being hit

by popcorn.

Another Saturday night.


Haunted House

Welcome to End House.

All may enter.

The house is dark,

but we are waiting for you.

Follow the candles down the dark

hallway and take the stairs to the basement.

Surprises are in store for you.

Would you like some wild animals or

a pit into nothingness?

We have that and much more.

THE DEAD love their games.

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist





A path through the trees.

Past moss and thick vines.

Bushes are shaking.

Animals are scurrying.

Leaves are falling.

Birds are fleeing.

I must get home.

The forest is dark at night.

Too dark to be safe.

I can’t move.

Vines are twirling around my feet.

I’m trapped.

The forest has taken me.





The mist follows close at my heels,

Relentless in its pursuit of me.

Tall trees block my escape from this forest,

Trapping the sunlight amidst their leaves.

A trap waits for me at every turn,

Poison ivy and open holes among the lot.

I refuse to be trapped by the evil one,

The one who desires me most of all.

I will break free from his unearthly grasp,

His icy grip clutching me too close.

He might be the leader of The Dead,

But he will never be my mate for life.

I must make a run for it now,

For any later will be too late.