Deadly Games

The waves rise in anger. The sky burns red. Birds flee from their perches. Animals run for hiding. The tides bring death. Dark creatures soar from its depths. They converge on our town On horseless chariots. Dark shadows roam the streets. Tourists...


The waves rise in anger.

The sky burns red.

Birds flee from their perches.

Animals run for hiding.


The tides bring death.

Dark creatures soar from the deep.

They converge on our town

On horseless chariots.


Dark shadows roam the streets.

Tourists grabbed for their deadly games.

All evidence wiped clean in the morning

Of their deadly rampage through town.









The trees bend to the wind.

Lightning flashes across the sky.

The rain drenches the town.

I’m safe and warm inside.

Nothing can reach me.

The storm ravages the land.

And I watch from my window.

I can’t be touched




Sherbrooke Forest | By Penny Whetton



The trees have been hurt,

Scarred by the recent storm.

Their leaves have fallen,

Fallen soldiers of nature’s war.

Without a proper burial,

No one will mourn for them.

New leaves will soon sprout

And take their place.

The cycle will continue

Through time and space.



e n e r g y


A fence for protection

To keep out the raging storm.

We will be safe and dry.

This has gone beyond the norm.


Faces raised in fury,

The waves reach a new height.

They attempt to break through.

They fight with all their might.


We will stay for the duration.

We refuse to flee our homes.

Out come the flashlights,

We’ve lost our lights and phones.


This storm won’t defeat us.

The next one won’t either.

We stick together as one

Until the day is won.







Golden Hour by willyam


Lined up like sentries.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Eying the shore.

Storm at their backs.

Wind at their sides.

Sun setting above.

Sea ripples below.

Sky darkens.

Clouds rush in.

Birds flee.

Skies open up.

Water rains down.

Quiet reigns supreme.

They quicken their tempo.

Winds pick up their speed.

They hit the sand with force.

A line of soldiers.

Shoulder to shoulder.

As one.


Light in forest


Light the night sky with your energy.

Waves of light to shock our senses.

Sizzling sounds to move our souls.

Darkness yearns to blacken the sky.

But the streaks of light persevere.

The moon lifts its face with a grin.

Thunder will be riding soon on its horse.

Mother Nature never misses a beat.

The light forewarns us of the coming storm.


Source: buteverythingisred

Jagged fingers slice through the air.

A dance of the gods for mere mortals.

We hold our breaths as they sizzle and play.

The clouds keep them in place in defiance.

The ground rumbles in dismay at their power play.

The wind and rain fight to divert their direction.

Their aim is compromised by their enemies.

They hold strong and band together.

But the gods and nature block their path.

The earth is saved from ruin on this day.

But they’ll be back again another day.


Off to the gingerbread house, ​we go
On this fine fall day.
The country road yawns before us,
Pointing the way with pebbled arms.

Shana is laughing up a storm,
Similar to the one building around us.
Swirling gusts lead us by the hand
To a cottage made not by man.

The house floats in a dewy gauze of its own,
Shielded from any attacks or storms.
It glistens and shimmers in the fading light
As we draw closer to its unfailing might.

The front door opens at our approach,
An extended arm our only invitation.
I want to leave but Shana says,
“Linda, let’s see who lives inside.”

Before I could answer she walks in,
Leaving me alone in the dying day.
Pebbles unearth themselves in my direction
Until I’m forced to seek shelter inside.

An older couple wait for us,
Wearing clothes from days long gone.
They show us around their unusual home,
Where rooms are shrines to their grown children.

We are led to the attic to find a lone rocking chair,
Facing the forest and deserted country road.
The woman explains they are The Watchers,
Protecting the town from errant vampires.

My ears are ringing and my heart is pounding
As I listen to her words in disbelief.
She says there’s always a Watcher
Sitting in the rocking chair.

We don’t know whether to believe her story
But the chair begins to rock on its own.
​We flee the scene of our worst nightmare,
Determined never to return to this awful place.

Our games have just begun.



Dark are the nights

The storm approaches the shore.

Dampness fills the air.

Mist sprays against my face.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Flashes light the darkening sky.

Yes, I can feel it.​

It’s almost here.

Will I lose myself to it?

Will it bring me down to its depths?

I spread my arms wide.

Lift my head up high.

And let myself fall.

Arms pull me under.

Lips reach for mine.

I’m lost for eternity.

Lost to the rushing wind.

Held prisoner of the ultimate despair.

Partner in pain and sorrow.

The choice is made and done.

I float away with my dear one.

Together we will forge a path

Through darkness and hell

To the heavenly place beyond.


purple fury


purple hot



The sky flashes purple and pink

amidst flashes of blue and white.

Reflected on the silvery surface

in shades of aquamarine and amethyst.

We see only a glimpse of its fury.

A quick shot of hot anger.

Don’t look away

for all too soon it will be gone.