BLOOD RUNS SMOOTH

Blood runs smooth with inky determination. Filling the ocean with its crimson red. It arrives with the tides to our sandy shores. Walking the streets of town with the rise of the moon. Leaving dead bodies behind in the wake of its path. Returning the...

 

 

Blood runs smooth

with inky determination.

Filling the ocean

with its crimson red.

It arrives with the tides

to our sandy shores.

Walking the streets of town

with the rise of the moon.

Leaving dead bodies behind

in the wake of its path.

Returning the next night

to sprinkle blood once more.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

 

HELL HOUNDS

The hell hounds are loose.  They are guarding the doors.  No one may enter.  Who lives inside the deserted mansion?  Are they human or supernatural beings?  We can’t enter but the priest has his spell book.  Let the games begin.  Humanity will finally fight back.  The Dead Game by Susanne Leist  http://www.amazon.com/author/susanneleist  http://barnesandnoble.com/w/the-dead-game-susanne-leist/1116825442?ean=2940148410881 

 

Hell hounds are loose.

They guard the door.

No one may enter.

We may not enter,

but the priest has his spell book.

Let the games begin.

The Dead Game by Susanne Leist

BLACK PETALS

No automatic alt text available.

 

A town where the snow is black,
bringing coldness and fear.
Old remnants of tears held back,
and times too hard to bear.

Woven from black sheets of rain,
fear covers in disarray.
Anguished and frozen with pain,
dark petals fall in dismay.

Hell has come to Oasis,
The Dead and gone at its side.
Now hidden behind faces
that are well-known far and wide.

Who will fall prey to The Dead?
I hope it is not me.
I’m hiding under my bed.
I’m afraid as I can be.

THE DEAD GAME
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

 

 

CHANTING IN THE BREEZE

Chanting could be heard in the warm breeze.  A breeze that blows in from the ocean and  smooths the white sand.  A breeze that feels like the soft flutter of  a rose petal against your skin.  Where is the chanting coming from?  Who is doing the chanting?  What do we only hear it at night?  Are spells being cast in Oasis?  Only The Dead know and they’re not talking.  THE DEAD GAME BY SUSANNE LEIST  http://www.amazon.com/author/susanneleist    http://barnesandnoble.com/w/the-dead-game-susanne-leist/1116825442?ean=2940148410881 

 

A breeze blows from the ocean.

One that smooths the white sand.

Feeling like the soft flutter of

a rose petal against your skin.

The sea breeze carries chanting.

Why do we hear it at night?

Are spells being cast in Oasis?

Only The Dead know and they’re not talking.

THE DEAD GAME 

A GINGERBREAD HOUSE

emiliomaccanti:
“ Chalet
Crissolo | Piemonte | Italy
”
A gingerbread house so quaint.
Disguised with colorful paint.
An evil group lives here.
And our town is so near.
They are Watchers for The Dead.
I’m afraid to go to bed.
Come and take a quick...

 

emiliomaccanti:

Chalet
Crissolo | Piemonte | Italy

A gingerbread house so quaint.

Disguised with colorful paint.

An evil group lives here.

And our town is so near.

They are Watchers for The Dead.

I’m afraid to go to bed.

Come and take a quick look.

Or you can read my book.

THE DEAD GAME

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj  

 

INTO THE WOODS

They live in the woods.
Lights flicker through the trees.
We follow the lights to the glass house,
Lit from within by crystal chandeliers.
Notes of The Waltz drift to us.
Glass walls reveal dancing couples,
Twirling on the dance floor.
Tuxedoed men...

 

They live in the woods.

Lights flicker through the trees.

We follow the lights to the glass house,

Lit from within by crystal chandeliers.

Notes of The Waltz drift to us.

Glass walls reveal dancing couples,

Twirling on the dance floor.

Tuxedoed men stand guard at the front door.

Snow flakes fall from the dark sky.

Snow in Florida?

The clock strikes midnight.

The couples freeze.

After the last chime,

Dancing commences.

All is not right in the glass house.

All is not right with the town of Oasis.

THE DEAD GAME

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP  

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

 

A WITCH’S BREW

A WITCH’S BREW

Our paradise is lost,
Coldness seizes the day.
To the winds we are tossed,
For our sins we must pay.


Like a cold witch’s brew,
An Oasis for all.
Now a hell for the few,
Who remain to tell all.

THE DEAD GAME

I’LL READ YOU A STORY

 

I will read you a story.

It might be all too gory

For you to understand

But I’ll give you a hand.

 

A blight falls on a town.

It’s sure to make you frown.

Residents  disappear.

I want to make this clear.

 

This isn’t a regular place.

Don’t give me that dark face.

It’s a place of evil creatures

And many more creepy features.

 

Dark shadows stalk the night,

Giving tourists a fright.

Florida can be a scary place.

I will soon pick up the poem’s pace.

 

The Dead want to kill you.

You’ll be their dinner too.

THE DEAD GAME

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP 

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

 

EXCERPT FROM THE DEAD GAME

     A waitress with a name tag that read “Rose” came over to serve them. She looked friendly with her bright-red hair and snapping gum. She took their order and then asked if she could assist them with anything else.

     Linda decided to come straight out with what they wanted to know. She began by explaining their situation. “Two of our friends disappeared from a party given at End House this past Friday night. We suspect that the people who reside on the hill are the ones responsible. Do you know anything about them that can help us?”

     Rose called over two men. “Hey! Rob and Joe! We need help here!” Linda and Shana, becoming frightened, began to stand up. Then they noticed that the two old men, who were coming over to them, had big smiles on their wrinkled faces. They joined them at their booth.

     Rose said to the men, “These women were at that party and they think that the hill people had something to do with the disappearances.”

     The one called Joe, who had a full head of white hair and a long white beard, nodded his head in agreement. “We have always suspected that those people were evil. Tourists disappear every year and nothing is ever done about it. The sheriff seems to be in cahoots with them. Parties are given on the hill on the same two nights each year. On these nights, shadows can be seen creeping around the deserted streets of town.”

     Rob, who wore very thick glasses and had curly grey hair, added, “The parties look like secret meetings of some society. Everything is always done after dark.”

     Rose spoke up. “We never see these people until the sun goes down. They don’t bother talking to us. I’ve been living here thirty years and I’ve spoken to only a few of them.”

     “Our town doesn’t go out after dark; we steer clear of the hill people. There have been many legends, but we don’t know if any are true,” Joe said.

     Shana asked, “What are some of the legends?”

     “One legend describes the hill people as vampires in hiding. They meet with the rest of the vampires in the world twice a year. These meetings are planning sessions on how to keep their species alive,” Joe said.

      “Another legend has the hill people as good vampires that are trying to rid the world of The Dead, a sect of evil vampires who enjoy killing people—just for fun. The Dead have greater powers than regular vampires and are led by a strong and malicious head vampire. The good vampires meet twice a year to plan the defense of their slowly diminishing group,” Rob explained.

     “How can you remain living here if you believe the worst of the people in town?” Linda asked. She didn’t believe in vampires, but if these people thought so poorly of the townspeople, then why didn’t they just leave?

     Rose answered for them, “We don’t know if the legends are true. We’ve been living here unhurt all these years. Maybe the tourists disappearing are just coincidences. We can’t pack up our whole village and leave. We need the income from the ocean: the fishing has been very profitable.”

     “Maybe they want you to remain living here for some sinister purpose,” Shana said. 

     “If you find out anything, please let us know,” said Rose, with concern beginning to dawn in her eyes.

     “Don’t worry. We’ll let you know of any new developments. We’ll figure this out and find our friends,” Linda replied, trying to downplay Shana’s dire warning.

     The village looked lovely and peaceful on the surface, but Linda was afraid that there was much more brewing beneath the surface. As she ate her lunch, she tried to be as cheerful as possible so that Shana wouldn’t notice her rising fears and suspicions.

The Dead Game by Susanne Leist

http://outskirtspress.com/thedeadgame
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

PRAY FOR US

 

Like a cold witches’ brew.
An Oasis for all.
Now a hell for the few,
Who remain to tell all.
Warm winds turn cold
As all become prey.
The young and old. 
For them we must pray.
Hell hath no fury
Like a demon scorned.
There is no jury
For a small town mourned.
Who’ll save Oasis
From ‘The Dead’ demons?
Who will now face us,
More dead or demons?
Pray for us.
We are alone 
Come save us.
We must atone.
THE DEAD GAME
Kindlehttp://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
Nook http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj