THE WATCHFUL EYE

The beauty.
The colors.
The design.
The fine details.
The watchful eye.
No picture can be painted
or statue created to capture
this perfection,
this awe-inspiring wonder.
Here’s to the creator.

DARKNESS DESCENDS

p-e-r-p-e-t-u-a-l
by Marcel Huijser

DARKNESS DESCENDS

With a defiant roar,

Darkness descends this night.

Slithering through the grass,

It prepares for the fight.

A fight to the death for some;

Others a fight for what’s right.

The town waits with bated breath,

Sides position for the fight.

The evil one leads the way,

A greater force held at bay.

Wolf walks into the clearing,

Soon others will join the fray.

He has come for me this night,

A shadowy form flits by.

It takes on his dreaded form,

Scooping me up to the sky.

We fly high above it all,

Rooftops passing in a rush.

I soon find myself falling

And landing on a thick bush.

I wake up in my own bed,

Happy I’m alive and free.

I fear for the dreaded night

When Wolf does come for me.

THE DEAD GAME

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BURIED ALIVE

lifeisthefight:

You can bury me,
Throw dirt on me
And walk away.
But I will survive.
I will dig my way free.
The human spirit cannot
be extinguished.
It will continue to shine
despite evil’s attempts
to destroy it.

Throw your dirt.

I will be back.

WEB OF LIES

Have you ever been caught
in a web of your own deceit?
A web of lies that kept growing.
One lie leading to the next.
So much easier to be truthful.
No lies to remember.
Easier on your brain and on others.
Stick to the truth.
Or be stuck in your own web.

A SECRET DOOR

olympialetan
One of the secret doors of the Stift Admont library, Austria.

A SECRET DOOR

A door to mystery.

A door to adventure.

A door to my mind.

I would climb the stairs

With a precious book in hand.

Sit in the rays of the sun

And read to my heart’s content.

Hidden away in my secret place

Ready to take on any foe or force.

The sunlit pages would come to life

To bring hours of joy and contentment.

BUT A DOT

Mile 148 | vividessentials

BUT A DOT

We are but a dot.

A spot on earth’s surface.

Our importance over-exagerrated.

Our size magnified over time.

Take a step back.

Measure our scope and reach.

Compared to the universe.

Compared to the planets and stars.

Compared to the sun.

Understand your importance.

Understand your insignificance,

In the scheme of life.

THE RAVEN'S LAST CHANCE

nitratediva:

Bela Lugosi recites some Poe in The Raven (1935).

The raven sits quietly while Lugosi reads the lines.
It sits as still as a lifeless statue.
But what if it isn’t lifeless?
What if it’s just waiting?
Waiting for the actor
to stop droning on.
For the room to become quiet
so that he could pounce.
The way he was supposed to
in The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.
He must perform for his namesake.
The world could use one less actor.
Couldn’t it?
Swoosh…

THE DEAD GAME -- THE GAME CONTINUES

Darkness brings a pall to the streets.
A dread that can be felt by all.
It follows me with soft footsteps.
Growing closer behind me with each step.

The stores are closed and shuttered.
Night has fallen too quickly this day.
Has everyone else gone to hide?
Leaving me to fend off the encroaching dusk.

I should have listened to my heart's song.
Listened to reason and right from wrong.
I'm now trapped in this horror of despair.
Waiting for death to take me in his arms.

The shadows are growing larger.
Surrounding me from all sides.
There's no where to run or hide.
I will stand strong against the tide.

He's here.
I can feel him.
He's come back for me.
No one is safe from his wrath.

The coldness wraps around me.
My hair drips icicles down my neck.
I shiver in dread of my future.
My future as queen of The Dead.

THE DEAD GAME

ONLY A MEMORY

A fireworks display burns bright

For a short time before flickering out.

Leaving no trace of itself behind,
Only a memory of its fading glory.

Such is our time on earth.

It can be short and sweet.

It can be sad and painful.

A brief time to leave our mark behind.

We must use this time wisely.

Make it dramatic.
Make it memorable.
Make it everlasting.

A FLEETING MEMORY

Those precious words,
"Mommy, pick me up."
Who hasn’t heard them?
The young voice.
The little squeak of pleasure.
The happy little face.
Remember it.
Enjoy it.
Savor it.
For soon it will only
be a fleeting memory.

THE DEAD AND GONE

THE DEAD AND GONE

A town where the snow is black,

bringing coldness and fear.

Old remnants of tears held back,

and times too hard to bear.

Woven from black sheets of rain,

fear covers in disarray.

Anguished and frozen with pain,

dark petals fall in dismay.

Hell has come to Oasis,

The Dead and gone at its side.

Now hidden behind faces

that are well-known far and wide.

Who will fall prey to The Dead?

I hope it is not me.

I’m hiding under my bed.

I’m afraid as I can be.

THE DEAD GAME

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DANCE WITH THE MOON

The moon brings out the best in us,
reflecting our inner thoughts and desires.
Some may howl at the moon.
Others are impelled to dance.
Dance until the sun rises.
Dance until your limbs grow tired.
Dance until you feel at peace,
at peace with the world.

A BEAUTY FROM WITHIN

Nature has beauty.

Rolling mountains.

Deep plains.

Blue skies.

Fields of flowers.

But there lies a more profound beauty.

A beauty from within.

A light.

A soul.

A purpose.

BENEATH THE SURFACE

So hot.

Hot flames.

Fires burning deep.

Beneath the surface.

Rumbling.

Splitting rocks.

Seeking an exit.

The earth is alive.

Ready to explode.

Did you have any doubts?

Were you a skeptic?

Seeing is believing.

Sizzle.

Pop.

Run for your life!

THE CREEPING LIQUID

Mysterious under-door seepages - “I Do” (1921)

The creeping liquid from my nightmares..

It is now alive in my book, THE DEAD GAME.

     They are racing down the staircase, carrying their children, eager to reach the front door. Diane stops dead in her tracks. A dark red substance is oozing into the house from under the door, creeping across the floor, devouring everything in its wake. The circular rug and then the hall table disappear into the thick slime. It turns to make its way toward them.
     Mary hears a high-pitched keening cry coming from within the slime. She backs herself into a corner and screams,  “It’s going to swallow us!”
     “Run out the back!” John shouts above the children’s frightened sobbing. He pushes her ahead of him. “Don’t think. Just make sure you get out of this house and down the stairs to the beach. Or else you might be living here forever.”
     They climbthrough the destroyed kitchen, through detached pieces of ceiling, through broken pieces of cabinets and sharp shards from shattered dishes.
     Once outside, they're struck by flying debris. The patio is engulfed in a strong wind, which lifts the furniture high into the air. The white wicker pieces crash against each other, the broken pieces falling into the empty pool.
     The pool hadsbeen filled already twice this season. The house has a mind of its own: it wants the pool empty of water and her family gone; and it's making sure that it remains this way.
     The red liquid is creeping beneath the kitchen door, inching its way toward them. Mary screams above the sound of the howling wind. “It’s getting closer. It’s followed us outside. WE ARE ALL DEAD!”
      “We must escape now! Don’t look back! Just run!” Her husband shouts back.
      She gazes down the steep staircase to the rocky shore below, to the jagged rocks that are being beaten by the raging waves of the ocean. In her heart, she knows that their fate is not going to be much better.

Kindle
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Nook
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THE DEAD ARE FOLLOWING ME

The nights are deadly.

Dark shadows stalk me.
I can’t escape them.
One is following me right now
From the party at End House.
The party to end all parties.
A deserted house filled
with traps and revolving rooms.
Just when I thought I was safe,
I have one of them chasing me.

I can hear its footsteps  behind me.

I can feel its hot breath on my neck.

I must keep running.

The wind flings leaves and dirt
at my already battered face.
I must not stop.
I keep running.
THE DEAD take no prisoners.

THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
Kindle
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SPLIT SECOND DECISION

You’re driving down the road at a high speed,
listening to the squeal of your tires in protest.
Your tires are nearing the edge,
a steep drop to sharp rocks.
Is this what you want?
Is the adrenaline rush worth it?
You have a split second
to make the right decision.
What choice will you make?

LOOK OUT BELOW

The stairs are slippery and wet.
The lights flicker and then all goes dark.
The door behind us slams shut.
It’s locked.
There’s no place to go but down.
Down to the basement of End House.
The deserted house overlooking 
the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
You can hear the waves hitting the house.
The basement floor is wet.
Are the ocean waters entering the house?
Or are we in for more surprises?
What is that sound?
Creaking noises are coming from above.
Huge cages are descending.
Circular saws soon follow.
What do we do now?
THE DEAD GAME has begun.

THE DEAD GAME
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Nook
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THE DEAD GAME -- The Perfect Wave

Welcome to Oasis, Florida
where sunlight glistens on the pink sand.
Money flows like water at the Oasis Hotel.
Tourists forever searching 
for the perfect paradise.
The perfect wave.
The perfect partner.
The perfect party.
Night brings the perfect ones,
looking for their perfect partners.
Looking for innocents 
to join their deadly games.
Who will be alive come morning?
Only THE DEAD know.

THE DEAD GAME
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Nook
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