Take cover.
End House holds evil.
Within the walls.
Hidden in the dark basement.
Windows shatter.
Creatures attack.
No one is safe from The Dead.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
The birds sense evil.
They fly away.
Time for us to flee.
THE DEAD take no prisoners.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
Shadows fill my room.
I’m going to swoon.
It looks like a woman.
But not at all human.
The town is scary.
It’s getting hairy.
Florida isn’t all fun.
Not a walk in the hot sun.
THE DEAD GAME
The cobblestones glisten
outside the dark cemetery.
Gravestones stand tall
in the heavy fog.
Moans sweep the winds
that rustle the lifeless trees.
A gate stands open
to welcome the curious.
Footsteps draw closer
to my hiding place.
A cloaked figure enters
the home of The Dead.
It enters a mausoleum
with an angel standing guard.
Goosebumps riddle my body
as I inch forward from my spot.
Dark shadows drift to the door
that the figure has left open.
I can’t stand the suspense any longer
and so I must follow their lead.
I must find the secret lair
of The Dead and gone.
THE DEAD GAME SERIES
vintagegal: Dracula (1931)
THE FOLLOWERS
Who was the original vampire?
Many believe it was Count Dracula,
who had enough charm to lure followers
to hell and beyond.
He had one descendent.
Where is he today?
Can he one of The Dead in Oasis, Florida?
THE DEAD GAME SERIES
I have a gift for you.
For you and no one else.
It comes in a black bottle.
Elaborate script on the front.
Please accept my gift.
Close your eyes.
And open your mouth.
The house sits alone.
Shutters hang broken.
Furniture upended.
Shattered pictures.
Shattered dreams.
Open the door.
Climb the battered staircase.
A house ravaged by a storm.
A savage storm that hit only this house.
I hear a creak on the stairs.
A sigh from within the walls.
A cry from the basement.
They’re back.
THE DEAD GAME
The mist follows close at my heels,
Relentless in its pursuit.
Roots poke through the ground.
Tree limbs grab at me.
The fog clears.
The forest ends.
I’ve reached the clearing.
He waits for me.
A black stallion is his ride.
I grab his extended arm.
He lifts me behind him.
We ride like the wind.
I sigh and turn my head.
A scream is lodged in my throat.
His face isn’t of my loved one
but a mask of death.
We ride like the wind
to the ends of the earth.
Hell’s gates shut behind us.
No one is knocking on its doors.
