A DEAD MAN’S DREAMS

 

Step inside.

A mansion is waiting.

It might appear deserted,

rundown and unused.

The inside tells

a different story.

Walk on marble floors

through rooms of delight.

Rooms of different eras,

reflecting a dead man’s dreams.

A man with no life or future,

who waits for the end of time.

A house fit for a prince

or a prince of darkness.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle

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 Nook

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Kobo

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WELCOME

Welcome to End House

“There she stood in the doorway;

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself

‘This could be heaven or this could be Hell’

Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way”

🕯️THE DEAD GAME🕯️

THE HALLWAY

Green Hallway

 

The hallway waits.

It beckons.

It calls to me.

I pass closed doors.

Cries fill the air.

Coldness descends.

Total silence falls.

I inch forward,

step by painstaking step.

I peek into a room.

Wheelchairs fill the darkness.

One chair turns.

The empty seat faces me.

The room ahead

glows green.

I hear voices.

I move closer.

Men in white coats

operate on a skeleton.

They flicker,

fade,

then become transparent.

Time for me to leave.

I’m strapped to the bed.

The men in white coats peer at me.

Too late.

FRIDAY THE 13TH

1 Friday the 13th

 

Friday the 13th is here.

There is no need to fear.

Step into the manor.

Ignore any banter.

The party is for you,

only a select few.

I have a secret to tell,

one involving an old spell.

A witch cast her spell.

Our lives went to hell.

Beneath End House, we were banished.

Please wait, I know you must be famished.

Listen to my tale.

The bread won’t turn stale.

Banished for years, we were.

Trapped in the earth by her.

We were freed by a priest,

accompanied by a beast.

We haven’t eaten for many years.

Do not bother to shed any tears.

Please step onto the food platters.

Our hunger is all that matters.

THE DEAD GAME

 

 

 

BREATHING

 

Your heart is pounding.

Your pulse is racing.

The house is alive.

It’s breathing.

It’s moving.

Illusions stalk you.

How can you escape?

You can’t.

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

THE HOUSE HAS SPOKEN

 

The house welcomes.

It creaks.

It sighs.

The front door drifts open.

We step inside.

Gargoyles stand sentinel

on the staircase.

Their eyes follow our path

past the flickering candles.

An icy wind brushes our skin

with unseen fingers.

Shadows move and sway

in the dark hallway.

The front door locks behind us.

The house has spoken.

 

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist