PRELUDE TO BOOK II – THE DEAD GAME SERIES

house in woods

 

 

Has End House returned to Oasis?

Our chanting had cast it to sea.
 
It can’t be back.
 
We can’t be under attack.

 

Silence fills the forest.

A cold breeze tickles my arms.

I follow the path through

a thick copse of trees.

 

The sky darkens.

A shadow looms in the distance.

I enter the clearing.

Seagulls cry and swoop low.

 

I halt by a deep hole.

The spot where End House had stood.

A hard shove

And I’m falling.

 

Laughter follows my descent.

I hit rock bottom. 

A tunnel stretches before me.

Light at its end.

 

THE DEAD GAME CONTINUES

PRELUDE TO BOOK II

GHOST TALES

 

 

Oh, Ouija Board,

please bring me spirits.

Spirits of the light

and ones of the damned.

I want to hear their tales

of past lives and woes.

I want to feel

their ghostly presence.

Their dead breath

on my face.

I  feel their cold breath.

Shrieks fill the night.

Icy fingers trail down my face.

They’re at my neck.

Squeezing.

Too tight.

Much too tight…

A BOOK OF EVIL

 

 

 

A book of evil.

A book of the devil.

Worshippers of death.

Does it exist?

Does it have a cult of followers?

It does in Oasis, Florida.

It’s revered and honored.

Welcome to Oasis.

Enjoy your stay.

THE DEAD GAME

STEP INSIDE

The door waits to be opened.

The window to be explored.

The house holds mysteries.

Intrigue for adventure-seekers.

Ghosts for hunters.

Blood for the insatiable.

And death for its followers.

Come and explore.

THE DEAD GAME

 

WHO SITS THERE?

Who sits there?
Source: slobbering

WHO SITS THERE?

Who sits there in the darkness?

No movement in the blackness.

As still as a fox waiting to pounce.

No hint of a ruffle or a flounce.

A soft sigh can be heard in the air.

Are those slithering snakes in her hair?

Shadows coast along with the circling dust.

The walls trickle with blood or maybe rust.

The ghostly form stands up to meet us.

She can be the hostess to greet us.

A deserted house this seems to be.

She hovers over us like a tree.

We stand alone in this bleak hall.

There won’t be dancing at this ball.

All the candles go dark.

This was a silly lark.

Time to leave this creepy place.

We must quicken our slow pace.

But since this is a horror story.

We won’t be leaving soon with glory.

IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

Haunted House on hill

Source: parallaxwallpapers

The house sits alone.

Night after night.

Ghosts in its walls.

Demons below its floors.

It waits for the night.

When the moon bleeds red.

Nature becomes silent.

And shadows walk tall.

Lights shine through its windows.

Sounds creep up from its basement.

We’ve come to play.

In The Dead of night.

THE DEAD GAME

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