A TWIST IN TIME

heyimchandler Deactivated

Looking through Partition Arch in Arches National Park

 

 

From here I can see

the wonderful sea.

I step through the door.

I stand at the shore.

Sand at my bare feet.

The sun shining heat.

But the sun soon leaves,

and the ocean heaves.

Sharp hail hits my face.

Men sprint in a race.

They shout for me to move.

I follow their quick groove.

Time has come to a standstill.

It’s time to leave this landfill.

DARK SKIES

 

Dark skies are moving in.

The town is dark as sin.

Rumbling fills the humid air,

And The Dead will soon be here.

Hail begins to fall,

Big as a baseball.

Lightning joins the hot fray.

I’m not going to stay.

We must escape this night

Before we lose the fight.

He has come for me.

I’m as afraid as I can be.

THE DEAD GAME

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DEATH COMES TO TOWN

I look out the window and what do I see? A storm growing in force and coming for me. Death comes to town. It has its own name. The one that I know is called The Dead Game. THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

(Source: stendec)

 

 

I gaze from my window

and what do I see?

A storm growing in force

and coming for me.

Death comes to town.

It has its own name.

The one that I know

is called The Dead Game.

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

 

 

BROKEN GLASS

 

They fly against the Town Hall.

Our shelter from the storm.

They’ve found us.

Windows break.

Glass rains upon us.

The end has come.

Too soon.

THE DEAD GAME SERIES

GAZEBO IN THE DARK

 

 

GAZEBO IN THE DARK

Darkness surrounds from each side.

The storm brews with the rising tide.

A gazebo stands in the clearing.

I don’t like the shrill sound I’m hearing.

Candles flicker inside.

There is no place to hide.

I’m being pulled toward the light.

My body refuses to fight.

A noose hangs above me.

I will never be free.


THE DEAD GAME

Kindlehttp://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
Nook
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THE HOUSE

 

 

The house sits alone.

Shutters hang broken.

Furniture upended.

Shattered pictures.

Shattered dreams.

Open the door.

Climb the battered staircase.

A house ravaged by a storm.

A savage storm that hit only this house.

I hear a creak on the stairs.

A sigh from within the walls.

A cry from the basement.

They’re back.

THE DEAD GAME

THE FALLEN

Sherbrooke Forest | By Penny Whetton

 

 THE FALLEN

 

Tree branches bend,

scarred by age.

Beaten by the storm,

many hit the ground

amid piles of leaves.

Without a proper burial,

no one mourns their loss.

The fallen won’t be forgotten

as replacements take root

in the shade of the tall trees.

Sunshine filters through the forest,

lighting the way for the future.