Written in Blood
HHAC Day 11: Susanne Leist
I’ve been reading murder mysteries and thrillers since I was a teenager. I’ve read all types of mysteries, from Agatha Christie to Sherlock Holmes. I always loved Columbo.
In recent years, I’ve begun to read paranormal mysteries. These books bring fantasy and the surreal to the simple murder mystery. It’s hard to find books in this genre. That is why I decided to write a paranormal, murder mystery of my own. It is the type of book that I search for and love to read.
My book, The Dead Game, has dead bodies and suspects like a traditional murder mystery. However, it also has humans, vampires, and vampire derivatives. And don’t forget the haunted house–we must have one of these.
Can you feel your heart beating?
Is it beating too fast?
Do you feel trapped?
This is because you are. You’re standing in a pool of water, in the basement of End House, wearing your party clothes. But there is no party, no host, and no guests. The door behind you locks shut. The only way is forward, through the falling cages with their sharp edges, ready to ensnare their next victim. Circular saws begin to descend, looking for heads to slice off.
Meanwhile, Linda is upstairs with the rest of her friends being pursued by creatures through revolving rooms. Or are they illusions? What should she do?
The owner of End House takes no prisoners.
The Dead Game has begun.
“I leave the storefronts behind,
With their pastel colors and shiny windows.
Windows eager to let in the famous Oasis sunlight.
I want to reach the beach.
I want to leave work and troubles behind me.
The sand will trickle through my toes.
The sea breeze will propel me forward
To the every-waiting, omniscient ocean.
The waves dance and writhe in their demented dance.
A dance growing wilder and wilder by the minute.
I feel their salty sweat on my face.
The trees join in,
Flapping their branches as if trying to hold hands.
The wind follows last with a rage of its own.
It torments the water and the trees
Until leaves are flying free
And waves are attacking the shore.
Why is this happening?
I should go back to town.
The town behind me is being plummeted.
Roof tops are flying through the air.
Glass crunches beneath my feet.
Windows hang broken and twisted.
The saddest sight is the church.
The once white church stands charcoal black
In the midst of its debris.
A day went terribly wrong.
Whose fault is it?
The creatures who visit our town at night.
They are determined to destroy each and every one of us.
Are they demons or humans?
Oasis will never be safe unless these evil ones are annihilated.
We must save our town.
I have friends who will help me.
There are those who doubt our wisdom and abilities.
But we will clean out the riffraff from town.
Don’t get in our way or you might join the garbage.”
Linda turns to find her friends.
Our games have just begun.
THE DEAD GAME
Rolling in hard,
Hitting the shore
By an unseen force.
A force of good or evil?
To find out
You can easily be pulled in.
Join the force.
cerebralust: my life rn
Life can move along smoothly
Without bumps or surprises.
It can be so smooth that
It becomes boring,
The bumps are the spice of life.
The ups and downs.
The births and deaths.
The good with the bad.
We need the spice
To properly flavor the soup.
Enjoy the bumps.
Ride them with care.
Make them work for you.
To keep flying.
Or to join my friends.
So many choices.
All are good.
The sun is setting.
I can feel its warmth
on my feathers.
While the warm breeze ruffles them.
The water looks calm.
I can see my friends swimming
with the current.
They look content and happy.
What a beautiful day
to be alive.
To be a bird.
The evil within.
We all have that voice inside.
The voice enticing us to be bad.
Offering suggestions of revenge.
Immoral ways to succeed.
It never sleeps.
It appears in our
dreams and nightmares.
Forever ready to lead us
down dark pathways.
Always on the hunt for
We don’t have to feed it.
Let it starve.
Life is short.
We are born.
Then we die.
What we do in between
is what’s important.
We determine which way
life swings for us.
Are we good?
Are we bad?
A path we alone can determine.
We keep swinging our chains
until our time is over.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Mikey by JohnBranhamArt
Is this you?
At times I feel this way.
I feel like murdering someone.
Cutting their heart out
of their mean and vengeful body.
But we can’t.
We’re humans with
compassion and forgiveness
in our hearts.
But it does feel good to think
like this when we’re hurt and angry.
So think your crazy thoughts and
then put on your happy face.
No one will ever know.
OUR TRUE FACE
What face do you show to the world?
Is it a happy face with smiles and laughs?
Or a sad face with frowns and whimpers?
Whatever face we might show,
there’s another face hidden behind it.
Our true face that very few see.
The face that accurately reflects our dreams,
desires, fears, and thoughts.
Complex thoughts that are never revealed to others.
As I watch people, I try to envision their true face.
At times, I can see it in their eyes;
for eyes more accurately reflect our inner thoughts.
So put on your fake face but you can only try to
disguise yourself with your eyes.
For the eyes tell all.
Just a note for us to remember that
we are only skin and bones.
Our lives and bodies are fragile.
We could be whisked away in
a strong wind.
All that will be remembered about
us is what we have left behind.
Therefore, we must be sure—very sure—
that we leave behind something significant.
Whether it’s family, friends, art, or good deeds
it must be significant enough to be remembered.
Start working on it now before it’s too late.