Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925
The forest grows dark.
It has come alive.
Wooden arms reach for me.
Roots uncurl from the ground.
Trees shake and dance
to the moans of the wind.
Dark shadows follow me.
Moonlight teases me.
I’m trapped in hell,
where the sun doesn’t shine.
THE DEAD GAME
The wind whispers, ” Hello,”
to whom I don’t know.
I quicken my pace
to get out of this place.
Under the trees, I run
to a place in the sun.
I was at the beach,
within close reach.
But now I race in fear
that I’ll be found here.
“Take me out of here,”
I run fast in fear.
Let’s travel through the forest so green.
A creature-filled oasis but don’t scream.
The roots tangle around our feet.
Walking becomes a scary feat.
Neon leaves hit our faces.
A hit every few paces.
I’m sinking deep into the forest floor.
Quicksand my enemy forever more.
areyou-stillawake
Demonic (2015)
Light the dark path.
Through the dense woods.
To the house on the edge.
Where many have gone.
Follow the puffs of smoke.
Through the rocks and brush.
To the end of the trail.
Where many have gone.
THE DEAD GAME
They fly through the trees.
Over the deadly mist.
Landing in the forest.
Where no man walks.
No light penetrates.
No laughter follows.
The realm of The Dead.
Their nightly playground.
Games with no survivors.
THE DEAD GAME
I walk quickly this night
from who lurks out of sight.
The wind gives a whistle and a sigh
as strands of my hair begin to fly.
The moon hides its face.
I pick up my pace.
Shadows surround me.
Footsteps behind me.
Hands around my neck.
Is that a love peck?
He is taking my blood.
I die in a red flood.
THE DEAD GAME
Kindle
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Cape Cod July 2013_-60 (by jackfrench)
Sunset brings the night,
With it dark shadows.
Hues of red fill the humid air,
Followed by high-pitched howls.
Residents hide behind locked doors,
As tourists huddle in their hotel.
The town waits deserted and quiet,
While the dark forest rumbles with music.
Dignitaries fly in from around the world,
Their limousines line the wooded paths.
Guests mingle and laugh in the glass house,
Where lifelike glass statues watch them.
Beneath it all lies an undercurrent.
One of evil and despair.
THE DEAD GAME
How did I come to be here?
Cold wrapped around me in fear.
No matter how far I walk.
I could hear them move and talk.
Muttering curses on me.
But faces I cannot see.
They surround me on each side.
There’s nowhere for me to hide.
I must get out of here soon.
Before the next full moon.
THE DEAD GAME
The house from my nightmares exists.
Is it real or part of my vivid imagination?
Is part of its facade a skull?
Does this mean that death lives here?
“Yes” the wind echoes.
THE DEAD live here.
Come and meet them.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
The candles are leading us
down a dark hallway.
No one seems to be home at End House.
But the house is beckoning us.
It wants us to follow the flickering lights.
Should we go down to the basement?
What could be awaiting us there?
It can’t be anything good.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
Once you begin to read,
your nightmare will never end.
You will hunted and pursued
through dark houses, revolving rooms,
deadly traps, and never-ending horrors.
There’s no rest for the weary in Oasis.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
SINKHOLE
A sinkhole where the house has stood
Lies deep in the deserted wood.
Where has everyone gone to?
The grass and trees are gone too.
A house and garden have once stood here.
Now there is only the ground laid bare.
Could they be in the tunnels below?
Will you hear me if I yell ‘hello’?
I hear rumbling coming from the hole.
The loose rocks are beginning to roll.
I should leave before it’s too late
And I suffer the same sad fate.
THE DEAD GAME
