A party on Friday 13th
has turned into a horror show.
I’m trapped with my friends
in the basement of End House.
The floor fills with water.
Rotating saws descend.
We swim to the other side
and are faced with three doors.
We open one.
Roars fill the inky darkness.
Wild animals pace their cages.
I turn to run.
Hot breath on my neck.
I glance back.
The cages have opened.
A tiger advances.
I close my eyes.
We are doomed to play
THE DEAD GAME.
I sink with each step
closer to the blue.
The waves tease and spray
and prompt me to play.
But my world is dark and bleak,
and I cannot fall asleep.
I gaze through my window
to the snow-laden bough.
I sigh and shut my eyes tight,
seeking paradise this night.
I get sleepy and go back in time
to the sand and the footsteps of mine.
A place of fantasy there must be,
where blues and green merge in the deep sea.
Clouds create formations into works of art,
resembling soft cotton balls splitting apart.
I raise my face to the sunshine of the day,
the rays shooting sparks as they frolic and play.
The sand is soft beneath my feet,
warming my body with its heat.
Come with me and enjoy the dazzling sun,
we’re sure to have fun till the day is done.
PINK SAND
The sand so pink and soft
Keeps my spirits aloft.
The water so clear and blue,
I want to enjoy that too.
Sun brightening the day,
All I want to do is play.
Take me to Oasis,
where demons roam
and The Dead play.
Take me to Florida,
to the ocean paradise,
where good triumphs evil.
Take me to the shore,
where the residents gather
and The Dead will fall.
THE DEAD GAME
The house sits empty.
Deserted for years.
Dust its sole visitor.
The piano waits for a voice.
Someone to play its keys.
One last song before it’s too late.
Before its beauty is lost.
Before it joins the dust.
Play me.
From under the sea
they have come for me.
Rising from the deep
they come when I sleep.
Through the small town, they roam
looking for a new home.
Blending with tourists at day,
but at night they get to play.
Blood-thirsty as they are,
they don’t have to go far.
They take sustenance within reach,
leaving dead bodies on the beach.
Tourists flee the hotel
before they’re doomed to hell.
The evil one walks tall.
Our town will surely fall.
THE DEAD GAME
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Lights flicker non-stop,
Bodies block my way.
Darkness shows the truth
Never seen by day.
Horror clogs my throat,
A weak cry creeps out.
“How did I get here?”
I run as I shout.
Arms reach for me.
They want me to stay.
I refuse to join
the games The Dead play.
THE DEAD GAME
“Self Portrait with a Harp” (1791) (detail) by Rose-Adélaïde Ducreux (1761-1802).
Play me a song.
Don’t get me wrong.
I love your singing voice,
But the harp is my choice.
The music soothes my sad soul
From the day taking its toll.
I need the music today.
Please sit down with me and play.
Dark shadows fill the night.
Diving from a great height.
Have they come to play?
How long will they stay?
🖤THE DEAD GAME🖤
