Showing posts with label Horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Horror. Show all posts

Saturday, November 12, 2011

My Basement

It is insane

By the end of everyday

I should stay

And lay



Always afraid

Of something unpaid

Something left undone

From which I wish to run,

Like a bullet from a gun.



Ahh! The gun

After it went off

My fate did change



It opened wide the gate

The door



Oh! No! Not the door!

Down the basement

When it hordes

A person once adored.



He was smitten,

Like a kitten

Not nearly as fit in

the society.



Pity I did take on him

But not long did it take

My soul to break



A clipping chipping,

Heart-less man.

My heart did sign

And like a useless

Tumor within me.



It did spread like a cancer

There was but one person to answer

For the numbness that is me.



Standing within the kitchen

Was the case of my affliction

To fulfill my intention was so easy.



Who would have thought freedom

Could come at so small an expense?

All I needed was the cheap pistol

Why by the handsome revolver when

The cheap thing will do the job?



Maybe once all is done

And all my cares are buried

And no more need me thought of

I shall learn to live before I die again.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

A College Story

I never really liked Terrance. Sure, he was charismatic and funny, he didn’t have a bad head on his shoulders either. No, it wasn’t his light, light blue eyes that always made him look high that caused me my reaction to stay away of him. It was something beneath the mask of personality he wore. I can’t really describe it either. I just know that the one time I sat next to him in class, I felt dirty. I took a half hour shower the moment I got back to the dorm. He didn’t even touch me, if he had I would have probably have needed to set that part of my body on fire to get rid of the feeling, and to keep it from spreading.

So, I can’t say I was shocked...well, yes I was shocked; the act in itself is shocking. The fact that one human-being could do something like that to another human-being is shocking, the fact that it happened at our campus, makes it even harder to swallow…Swallow, what a phrase!

The fact of the matter is because it was Terrance is the only reason I believed the story the first time I heard it.

  He killed Ellen by forcing her to swallow drain cleaner.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Poetry Fuming

I didn’t realize until a little while ago that I vent when I write poetry. I know, I always vent when I write, but it seems to be especially so when I am attempting to be a poet, and it’s not an intentional fume, I just…fume. I let out whatever has been bothering me, or making me happy, or sad, or at peace. Whatever it is, I tend to keep true to what I’m truly feeling when I’m writing a poem. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I’m so unoriginal all I can write about are my emotions in some form, even “Hostage” my last poem was addressing my feelings of being trapped and vulnerable.

  On the other hand, somewhere I heard that poets only write about their feelings in some form, well, if that’s true, I guess that I am a poet. I have always flirted with the art of poetry, but never have I ever pictured myself as welding the pen of poetry as an expert, I still don’t. I am first and foremost a writer, but I know that even ahead of that, I am a storyteller and I suppose if I think of being a poet as another way of telling a story, I guess I can accept the title of poet…nah.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Hostage

My phone says ding-a-ling-a

I stare, my heart, it skips a beat

In its frantic tarantella



I wonder what my captor

The reason for my hearts erratic rhythm

Will ask me to do now



Shall I answer?

What will I do? Lie? Act Normally?

What will he decide after the brief ponder?



He gestures with his armed hand.

Oh, terrifying firearm!

for me to stand.



I scramble to my feet

So I shall pick up

I walk with heavy feet



As I reach with my hand, I realize

One word, one frightened breath on the receiver

It will bring my certain demise.



This thought caused the plastic handle

To weigh a million pounds

My lips feel like wax from a candle.



How can I speak,

when I can’t taken in a breath of life?

Will my life be taken by this creep?



The worst was I could have done more,

To prevent this end

Why didn’t I lock the damned door!?

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Oceanside Murder

  A body with several bullet wounds was found by Mr. Grayson on the morning off November 14 2009. After he discovered the body, he immediately called the police who arrived twenty minutes later. The body was removed from the site after the scene had thought to have been properly documented and recorded.

Mr. Grayson was questioned and allowed to leave. During the autopsy several finger prints were found on the body, and the police were able to make a positive identification three hours after the body was found and ten hours after the murder was estimated to have been committed. The victim was one Kent Portly, and local auto shop repairman.

  Five hours after the police found the finger prints, they matched one William Ferdinand, an ex-con and known friend of the victim. Ferdinand was arrested three days after the discovery of the body. Ferdinand admitted having met the deceased down at the beach the night before the body was found, and that they had an argument in which Ferdinand seized Portly, but according to Ferdinand, they did not exchange blows, nor did he kill Portly. He claims they had parted sometime after seven o’clock, still angry at each other, but Portly was still alive and very much in good health.  Ferdinand then claims to have returned home and remained there the rest of the night.

  Ferdinand was held on trial and found guilty of the murder, though he continued to deny it. He was sentenced to death six months after the murder. A case which seemed very straight forward, is now believed to be one of the biggest botch up jobs by law enforcement in the last eighty years, find out why, tonight at seven.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Totem Poles

James stood on his tiptoes in order to see the third face on the totem pole. He liked this one the most, it depicted a face with round eyes and mouth with a bulbous nose, it reminded him of an English teacher he had back in junior high. Even back then, James had been known for his tenacious nature, it was this trait that got him to graduate a year early in high school, and wrap up a degree in Archeology in just under five semesters. Now here he was in the dense jungles of South America, fulfilling his dream of studying newly found tribal grounds that had long been deserted. The only things remaining were hundreds of totem poles; it was probably a religious sight. Many of these poles were remarkably preserved.

  There had been some minor setbacks, well major setbacks; several members of his team had gone missing since the team had arrived three days ago. This left James alone with two other members: Daphne and Tim, both of whom he had known for nearly two years now. This was longer than he had ever known anybody.

  “Professor East?” Tim asked, from behind him.

  “What is it now?” James asked, kneeling down to scribble some notes in his journal.

  “Have you seen Daphne?”

  “Do I look like I’ve seen Daphne?” James replied taking a few steps back to take a better look at the pole.

  “No, you look like you have you head shoved up your own ass.”

  “Excuse me?” James asked, looking up. Tim was a quiet person by nature, and not prone to out breaks.

  “Daphne is missing.”

  “How would you know that?” James asked.

  “Because I can’t find her.”

  “Exactly, you can’t find her, don’t let us jump to conclusions.” James made another note.

  “No, let’s just pretend everything is alright and that every member of this team isn’t disappearing without a trace.”

  “Nothing disappears ‘without a trace’ Tim, except in the moves.” James looked at him, “Honestly and you call yourself a scientist. ‘Without a trace,' indeed.”

Tim walked away in a huff.

  James shrugged and returned to his notes.

  Later that night James returned to camp and Tim was nowhere in sight.

  He must have returned to collecting water samples from the river. James thought. Good, that’ll calm his mind.

  Several hours went by and James finished making dinner and Tim did not return. James took out a flashlight and headed to river.

  “Tim!” James called out as he neared the river. “Are you close to a breakthrough on that mystery mineral in the water? Either way you’re going to have to call it a day: it is dinner time.”

  Silence.

  “Tim,” James pointed his flashlight beam up and down the bank there was no sight of his companion. Raising the light to look across the bank he saw a figure just beyond the opposite river bank.

  “Did you find something?” James asked, thinking it was Tim.

  When there wasn’t an answer, James guessed the noise of the river was drowning his voice. Finding a shallow place, he crossed the river. Upon approaching the figure, he found it wasn’t Tim, but another totem pole. Directing the light at the face that was at his height he thought it looked a lot like Daphne.   As the light shined higher and higher on the pole, to James’ horror, he realized that all of the faces resembled his fellow professors and scientists. When he brought the light back down to the very bottom face, which looked the newest, it looked precisely like Tim. James tried to scream but he couldn’t, open his mouth. He watched in terrified as the hand holding the flashlight turned, not into stone, but wood.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Clowns and Vampires, Their Similarities

  1. Clowns and vampires frighten children (but of course we all knew that.)
  2. Clowns and vampires both pretend to be what people want to see, on one hand we have a man (usually) dressed and made up to give an image of mirth to a party. On the other hand we have the vampire, who is dressed up an made up to seem like an ordinary person (they aren't.)
  3. Clowns and vampires are both ridiculed by most of the public (Captain Obvious, I arrrre matey.)
  4. Vampires and clowns have appeared in movies and books as killers (but then again, what hasn't?)
  5. Clowns and vampires have also been cast as the victim of circumstances. (The clown doesn't plan upon being run threw by a bull horn, does he?)