Alone with nature
a feeling like no other.
A sky filled with birds,
fuschia with the setting sun.
Sea breezes wrap around me,
cocooning me in their mist.
Life stands still for this picture,
a glimpse of heaven above.
Autumn Fence, Woodstock, Vermont
A walk down a country road,
not knowing what it may hold.
Leaves crunch loudly beneath my feet,
walking fast is no easy feat.
I need to get home to make dinner,
I’d hoped the walk would make me thinner.
But I need to slow down and breath the air,
as sweet as cotton candy at a fair.
My steps follow the white picket fence,
the other side makes me cold and tense.
The huge dog jumps high in the air,
his eyes white dots on his black hair.
He whimpers and walks closer to me,
his dark eyes as wide as can be.
He lifts a large paw to the gate,
as I slow down my frenzied gait.
I stop in place to pet his head,
I know I have just made my bed.
I will now be home late for dinner,
but the dog knows I’m still the winner.
I have stopped to smell the flowers,
I’m refreshed with superpowers.
I race home with new resolve,
no more time puzzles to solve.
A walk down the street.
Fragrances so sweet.
White cobblestones line the way.
Here is where I want to stay.
Away from the madding crowd.
A place where I can be proud.
This will be my home.
I don’t need a phone.
All I need is a soft bed
To lay down my weary head.
Fishermen’s cries will awake me
To begin my day by the sea.
Look up to the white skies.
Magic before my eyes.
White flutters to the ground.
Without even a sound.
Masking the dirt with white.
So pretty and so bright.
If it could remain this way.
A blanket for one more day.
Calming blue waters.
Soft white sand.
Reclining on a hammock.
Enjoying the sunshine.
The bright blue sky.
Darkness descends upon us.
The trade winds turn violent.
Sand flies in our faces.
Rooftops fly above our heads.
We make a mad dash to town.
The sun hides her face.
Lightning joins the winds.
Where to hide?
The Town Hall waits.
Its front door stands open.
Inside is dark and quiet.
What awaits us now?
Shrieks fill the rooms.
Shadows fly by the tall windows.
THE DEAD GAME
Gripping horror, March 14, 2015
This review is from: The Dead Game (Kindle Edition)
“Beneath the pretty field of flowers growing on End House property, exists an evil so great and powerful that even the elders can’t fight it on their own.” Who are the elders? What is The Dead Game, what is the relationship between the wicked vampires, good vampires, human vampires and what role do spells and magic play in Susanne Leist’s hugely enjoyable horror novel? If you want to learn the answers then you’ll need to read The Dead Game, and if you enjoy this type of fiction then I strongly suggest you do.
The author wastes no time laying out her literary stall. After a gripping prologue replete with bloody tentacles and a swirling vortex Leist ends her introduction with, “No sounds or voices were heard again. End House remained empty until the party five years later that awoke the house to the possibility of new victims.” I especially enjoyed the prologue as I’m not a big fan of the slow burn or the slow build. When chapter 1 begins with descriptions of the quaint shops, pristine white sand beaches, tree lined walkways and grassy town parks of the picturesque town of Oasis we know that this tranquility is illusory, ephemeral at best. When Linda and the others receive invitations to End House the sense of suspense quickly grows and it isn’t long before we’re plunged into supernatural horror once more.
Some books you can’t help but imagine as films and for me, The Dead Game is one of these. I could easily see myself watching something like this on the horror channel or a Fright Night special. The characters are well drawn as are the interactions and interpersonal conflicts but in essence it is the narrative, the “game” itself which drives the tale as the victims wonder if their fate is to “all die in this house, one by one.”
On the whole the novel pretty much played out as I expected and the diabolical vampire, Wolf, was very much part of this. Even the little surprise right at the end wasn’t such a surprise. Yet for me at least, this is not to the work’s detriment. The Dead Game is extremely well written with vivid (often extremely vivid) descriptions, the premise is strong, the central characters well drawn and the actions and reveals continue to build throughout. If I had one criticism it is that of the narrative layering. Linda is the main protagonist and as such needs to be the focus a little more in the story. It is through the central character after all that the reader best experiences the roller coaster of emotions, especially fear and hope, of a horror novel. Although a fan of James Herbert this is an aspect that I never enjoyed of the late British horror writer’s work.
Notwithstanding this minor quibble, if you like this type of fiction then you will love Dead Game. I certainly did.
Why am I never at a place like this?
Why am I always in a dark room typing?
We all make our choices,
and I have to live with mine.
Too many ‘maybes’ in this world.
I need one ‘could’,
and then I’m off to the tropical island.
On the way, I’ll throw my computer
into the depths of the blue, green water.
Sounds good to me.
Sounds like a plan.
The moon brings out the best in us.
It reflects our inner thoughts and desires.
Some may howl at the moon,
while others are impelled to dance.
Dance until the sun rises.
Dance until your limbs grow tired.
Dance until you feel at peace,
at peace with the world.
Waves drumming softly
on the soft shore.
Green and blue swirls,
creating a rich palette.
along the shore line.
Nothing more perfect.
Nothing more serene.
But whose footsteps are those?
on a deserted beach.
They are moving closer
with their invisible presence.
Can it be true?
Can this oasis be haunted?
Can I outrun them?
THE DEAD GAME