horror

Disclaimer: I must warn that there will likely be some language and violence in this, and following chapters. So, if you might be offended or disturbed by that sort of thing, you might not want to read this.

A victim
and a survivor.

Of what you may ask.

Of an honor killing,
a supposed murder
that kills an innocent girl,
so that makes it honorable.

But this girl had a purpose,
a reason to live
and to tell her story
to all that would witness it.

She was burned alive
by the decision of her parents,
she was saved by kind
city women.
In some places there are laws for this,
like numbers 97 and 98,
which say the murderer
goes to prison for at least six months,
usually they do not stay that long
and are considered heroes in their homes.

Time goes on and laws change,
but not 97 and 98,
they stay the same.

Though the girl has
a second chance,
she remembers her “slave” days
from her childhood.

Which no child,
male or female,
should endure.

From her beatings
she found nonviolent ways,
her peace of mind not there,
but her peace with people is all there.

Her first life
she writes down
into her book, with her
first born child in the pages.

(I've been reading some Stephen King for the first time lately. I'm liking it a lot. This is my attempt at a horror story. Feedback is very welcome.)

Dennis Lexington’s palms were sweaty. They were very, very sweaty. The gun in his right hand slipped a little. He repositioned it.

I don’t want to die.

You have to.

He gulped. Sweat dripped slowly, painfully into his eyes. He didn’t wipe it away. The only movement he had made for the past fifteen minutes was the involuntary shaking. It was a constant. The pistol’s quivering barrel clattered deafeningly on his front teeth.

I don’t want to die.

You have to. It’s the only way out.

Maybe it was all in his head. Maybe there was nothing to it. The visions of a stressed-out young teacher. Nothing to them. He relaxed a bit. He moved his thumb to let the hammer of the gun down.

Crawling.

He screamed, throwing his sweat-soaked to the hardwood floor.

Writhing.

I will confide this tale of misery for its own sake.
It was a bold question,
the path of knowledge was of a nature
which bore me onwards that I might fulfill my destiny.
I became myself capable of the creation of
the beautiful and adored companion
-mine to protect, love, and cherish.
the monster of my creation were as a dream of my own reflections,
I was of course led to admire
a perfect creature, happy and prosperous,
I cherished hope, it is true; but it was all a dream;
Henry Clerval was the daemon, who caused this misery.
We were brought up together;
my beloved and only friend;
I felt as if my soul might soon dissipate into an airy dream,
The being I was to create was to be mine only.
Clerval, who watched my change in countenance
as I toiled day and night to create a female for me,
could no longer suppress the rage
that burned within Clerval;
his presence brought the utmost extent of malice and treachery.
Meanwhile, Clerval occupied himself, so to destroy

Her teeth flash white in the glimmer of light
Falling from her shoulders,
Red hair smolders
Sizzling like fire
You stare into her eyes that never tire
Leaving an icy blue shock imprinted onto yours
Blood pours
Seeping through her crimson lips, onto the floor she’s ravenous for more
Beauty stamps her face with a memorizing glow
Fingering your flesh
Meshing your blood
All into one
Seeping through the window pane the sun,
Sunken low into the depths of the night
Her face white
She crawls her nails up and down your neck
Slowly pursing her lips to a peck
You are trapped, under sheets like shackles locking you in place
Your mind paces
She grins unfolding her lips from a thin line
Sniffing your blood like wine
Twenty-two sharp fangs plow into your skin
Venom spurts releasing into your veins
Throbbing blood numbs your mind sinking you back
With a tumbling whack
The vampire sucks tasting away, bloodcurdling screams slip from your lips
The juicy red blood rejuvenates the monster with every sip
Her eyes grow vibrant as she releases savoring the freshness
Leaving the house
As quiet as a mouse
You awake, face a pallid scare
You pull the sheets tearing a pair
Of you
Brushing the scar sliding down you neck your eyes grow wide
Humans to the side
The want lingers like addiction growing inside bigger
And bigger
You leap from the window
Falling gracefully to the ground
Music sounds
Drawing you near
The sent is strong flaring your nostrils wide
You are not you
As you go for the kill
Night after night
Giving others that same chilling freight

Her teeth flash white in the glimmer of light
Falling from her shoulders,
Red hair smolders
Sizzling like fire
You stare into her eyes that never tire
Leaving an icy blue shock imprinted onto yours
Blood pours
Seeping through her crimson lips, onto the floor she’s ravenous for more
Beauty stamps her face with a memorizing glow
Fingering your flesh
Meshing your blood
All into one
Seeping through the window pane the sun,
Sunken low into the depths of the night
Her face white
She crawls her nails up and down your neck
Slowly pursing her lips to a peck
You are trapped, under sheets like shackles locking you in place
Your mind paces
She grins unfolding her lips from a thin line
Sniffing your blood like wine
Twenty-two sharp fangs plow into your skin
Venom spurts releasing into your veins
Throbbing blood numbs your mind sinking you back
With a tumbling whack
The vampire sucks tasting away, bloodcurdling screams slip from your lips
The juicy red blood rejuvenates the monster with every sip
Her eyes grow vibrant as she releases savoring the freshness
Leaving the house
As quiet as a mouse
You awake, face a pallid scare
You pull the sheets tearing a pair
Of you
Brushing the scar sliding down you neck your eyes grow wide
Humans to the side
The want lingers like addiction growing inside bigger
And bigger
You leap from the window
Falling gracefully to the ground
Music sounds
Drawing you near
The sent is strong flaring your nostrils wide
You are not you
As you go for the kill
Night after night
Giving others that same chilling freight

The Ivy Hole
Prologue

Here I am, a slave to my fingers, who move without the will of the body, silently typing and jotting away the deep sensations within the remote corners of my mind. I do not know what I will say, or rather, what they will say, but my fingers continue to do the walking.... the talking. I sit here alone in a silent space, while these digits write down the thoughts I am too withheld to write.

The Path to Limbo, the Undecided Trail

“Noooooooooo” cried my little sister Sarah. I let out an exasperated yawn as I left for the bus. The bus picked me up, but instead of our regular bus driver an old man greeted us! This was not surprising that our bus driver wasn’t here, he usually wasn’t. This wasn’t one of the 5 subs that could drive the bus though. A chill went up my spine as I stepped on to the bus.