It governs our lives.
It sets our course
On the paths, we follow.
Igniting our colors
And forming our creations.
Like words in a book
And brush strokes on an easel.
It gives us life
In multi-color.
What is it for you?
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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
The tree spreads its limbs wide
to absorb the light of the sun.
Its leaves glow in the waning afternoon light.
Soon the sun will leave yellow trails
around the tree’s massive trunk
as it sets for the day.
The shadows grow longer.
The colors become dimmer.
The sun bows its head goodbye.
Looming shadows signal the next stage.
The glow of the moon takes centerstage.
The tree spreads its limbs wide
to absorb the light of the rising moon.
The new spring blooms colors.
But who even bothers
to breathe the sweet air?
I don’t have a care.
My car fails to start,
a walk in the park.
I raise my small hand.
Gone is the quicksand.
It races down the hill,
the most heavenly thrill.
Shocked faces turn to me.
Only houses I see.
FOLLOW THE LIGHTS
Follow the lights to the house of glass.
There will be much splendor in the grass.
Lights in the trees as far as the eye could see.
A more decadent event there could not be.
Champagne will be flowing until the wee hours.
Come with me and dance among the pretty flowers.
This room full of guests gives me a chill.
Maybe we should leave I’ve had my fill.
Eyes are following us in the room.
They will be upon us all too soon.
The guests are not what they appear.
Beneath they are just bones and hair.
THE DEAD GAME
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Is this heaven or hell?
Do I hear a loud bell?
Pink lights are flashing.
I can hear thrashing.
The forest is alive.
A gigantic beehive.
Buzzing sounds surround us.
Yellow like a school bus.
Get me out of here.
Something in my hair.
A giant bee is caught inside.
I need a place to run and hide.
Get the bee away from me.
It just bit me on my knee.
I want to go in the rabbit hole.
I don’t care if I meet a mole.
What is this book for?
To rid the world of vampires,
or so Father John believed.
He foolishly used one of its spells.
And he created a new type of demon.
A demon who can’t be destroyed.
Be careful how you use the book.
Read what happens in
The Dead Game by Susanne Leist.
dodsrike-deactivated20140501 Deactivated The Return of the Vampire, 1944
Vampires no longer resort to tricks.
They don’t bother with capes.
They don’t flaunt their sharp teeth.
But their favorite meal remains the same.
The blood of the innocent.
THE DEAD love their innocent.
THE DEAD GAME
MAGIC
Magic governs our lives.
It sets the course.
The paths we follow.
Igniting in colors.
Creations.
Roaring wildlife.
Sedate sceneries.
Words in a book.
Clouds in the sky.
Magic.
A LITTLE MAGIC
All we need is a little magic
to bring our fantasies to life.
A little fairy dust
to capture our hidden desires.
A little sprinkle of pink
to brighten our dreary days.
Puff.
You’re gone.
I’m in fantasy land.
