TWISTING AND TURNING

Source:

 

 

The world twists and turns.

It squeezes us dry like sponges

until we have no strength to fight.

I can’t keep my eyes open any longer

and watch the mad parade of colors.

Hurricanes, poverty, violence, shootings.

Red will soon hide the greens and blues.

Madness will descend and replace the stars.

The moon will hide its face from the night.

The sun will no longer send its rays of warmth. 

Mankind will be alone to fend off the darkness.

Twisting, turning, squeezing

until nothing remains of mankind.

CRASHING WAVES

 

 

CRASHING WAVES

Waves crashing to shore.

I want more and more.

The mist in my face

Keeps me in this place.

The tides dare to peak,

Lulling me to sleep.

This is my spot for now.

Waves, I refuse to bow.

I stand strong on the rocks,

Time passes on the clocks.

Deserted house I might be,

But I stand alone and free.

PARTY AT END HOUSE

PARTY AT END HOUSE

End House sits perched at the edge<br /> of a steep cliff, overlooking the ocean.<br /> If you have to make a quick getaway,<br /> it’s a  long drop to the beach.<br /> It’s even longer with flying creatures<br /> trying to knock you off the face of the mountain.

End House sits perched at the edge

of a steep cliff, overlooking the ocean.

If you have to make a quick getaway,

it’s a  long drop to the beach.

It’s even longer with flying creatures

trying to knock you off the face of the mountain.

  • Something is happening at End House tonight.<br /> The animals can sense it.<br /> The Dead can sniff it.<br /> And the humans…<br /> they have no idea.<br /> They are coming for a party.<br /> But they will be faced with<br /> much more than a party.<br /> Come join us!<br /> THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist<br /> http://www.amazon.com/author/susanneleist<br /> http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-dead-game-susanne-leist/1116825442?ean=2940148410881

Something is happening at End House tonight.

The animals can sense it.

The Dead can sniff it.

And the humans…

they have no idea.

They are coming for a party.

But they will be faced with

much more than a party.

Come join us!

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist

http://www.amazon.com/author/susanneleist

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-dead-game-susanne-leist/1116825442?ean=2940148410881

THE DEAD GAME — DAY 89

THE DEAD GAME -- DAY 89

Chapter 15
After Sunday morning services, Linda and Shana approached Father John as he said his usual goodbyes on the front steps of the church. He asked them to join him in his study. They followed him through the main room with its shiny wood benches and ornate statues. The church was bright from the sunshine that shone through its sparkling glass-domed ceiling.
Linda realized that the church and the hotel were the only buildings in town with clear glass windows. She has always been curious about the green tinting on the windows of the homes on the hill. Even the stores on Main Street had green tinting on their windows.
The priest’s study was sunny and cheerful with flowered couches, colorful rugs, and a pretty vase holding yellow daisies on his desk. Mrs. Abigail, the housekeeper, kept the church warm and inviting. She didn’t live in town, but in a small town nearby. She was a vibrant and happy older woman, who took great care of Father John and the church.
Abigail set out tea and cakes for them. She closed the door behind her. She left them alone with the Father; she never intruded into anyone’s business and always knew when to give the priest’s congregants their privacy.
“Father, we’re faced with a terrifying situation in town. Friday night we went to a party at End House, but no one was there to greet us except deadly saws and bone-crushing cages. Luckily, we were able to escape—except for Tom and Edward who were last seen going through a doorway in the basement. Afterward, the doorway disappeared and we never saw them again. Later, Louise—who we thought was dead—came back alive.” Linda stumbled over her words in her haste.
She’d expected the Father to either doubt her words or get angry at her for making up such a morbid tale. However, he just sat down in his chair, nodding his head; he didn’t appear at all surprised to hear about the unusual party.
Father John must be in his late fifties, guessed Linda, but he appeared very strong and rugged-looking for a man his age. He also seemed to be troubled. His eyes darted around as if he expected to be overheard by someone, even though the church was empty and quiet.