MEAN KITTY

Heathers Animations

Are you surprised?

Well, so am I.

I didn’t expect you.

Don’t open strange doors.

Now, go away.

Meow.

A POEM WRITTEN FOR ME! by KENNY MCPHEE — “SPOOKY SUSANNE”

I’m surprised and honored to have a poem written for me by fellow poet, Kenny McPhee.  Most of my poetry is on the spooky side. I began writing poetry as a way to showcase my book. Soon I found I love to write poems. I’ve added nature and inspiration to my repertoire, but I’m basically a creepy poet.

SPOOKY SUSANNE You enjoy a walk on the dark side, susanne if you take a train, it will be the ghost train if you have a dream, it will make you scream you like to shiver and feel the menace of demons, ghouls and shady fellers you’re into stephen king and james herbert I bet you have a rat for a pet and paranormal tendencies Nobody true, they say, but once in a while a poet can make the spine tingle with the rightness of his or her words.  May you enjoy the holy terror, my dear, forever more!

GUESS WHO?

Guess who?
It’s me, honey.
I’ve had a hard day at work.
It has made me grumpy.
I feel changed.

Different.Do my hands feel furry?
They look furry to me.
All of a sudden I’m hungry.
Hungry for you, my darling.
Come, dance with me.

The night holds mystery for us.
Come with me…

WE LOVE TO DANCE

Source:king-of-the-scumbunnies 

We love to dance.

To the pounding music.

To the sounds of the night.

To the darkness.

To the end.

To The Dead.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle
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Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

A DOOR

Source:s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com 

A door among many others.

A family like all the others.

Eating at the dinner table.

Drinking wine.

Laughing.

But something is off.

The wine is blood.

The dessert are fingers.

A family not like the others.

THE DEAD GAME

ALIENATED

diablito666

Mars Attacks! (1996)

Some days I feel alienated

from the people around me.

They talk and walk like me

but their words are strange.

Thoughts of a different tongue.

Humor of a separate species.

Lovers of everything Kardashian.

Clothes made from the same cloth.

Clones of the lowest elements.

What happened to individuality?

What happened to modesty and charm?

Lost to our race.

Lost in the wake of selfies.

A STRANGE PLACE

Source:dennieblackwidow

The mind can be a strange place.

It can think up dark stories.

With monsters and demons.

A little murder and mayhem.

Skulls and bones for decoration.

Maybe your cup of tea is blood.

Your coffee carries some poison.

Let your mind roam the darkness.

And maybe beyond.

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN --- THE DEAD GAME --- PART 19

A door to your dreams,
And if you're not careful,
It can lead to your downfall.

All you have to do is open it.
And then walk through.
Your imagination does the rest.

The villagers explain about the door
To their captive audience.
A captive audience surrounded
On all sides by strangers.

Linda backs away from the door.
She could feel eyes boring holes
Into the back of her head.
They have to leave this strange place.

Her friends stand as still as the cold air.
Eyes wide open in pale faces.
They can't believe in such nonsense.
Can they?

A plain door sitting in a plain diner.
A little girl stands up and runs through the doorway
Into the lights and sounds of a carnival.
A clown hands the girl a balloon.

The village mayor turns to smile at them.
The girl returns with a red balloon
Trailing along behind her.
She runs into the mayor's arms.

What game are they playing?
We should have escaped
When we had the chance.

Linda doesn't like to play games.

THE DEAD GAME

 

OUR GAMES HAVE JUST BEGUN --- PART 1V

Linda runs out from the Town Hall 
To find sunshine beating down on the sand. 
Birds are once again flying overhead.
Happy cries fill the blue sky.

The sun resumes its regal position.
The winds retreat as one,
Dragging their tails between their legs.
The palm trees stop their mad dance
To bend softly in the sea breeze.

"Are we finally safe?
The Dead must still be here,
Somewhere close.
I can still feel them.
But they won't win.
They can't!" 

Her friends walk down the steps of the battered Town Hall,
Climbing over fallen bricks and dead creatures.
No more cries of flying creatures.
Only the sounds of leaves shuffling in the breeze.

Linda is proud of her town and her friends.
With the help of The Watchers, human vampires,
And Father John, victory will soon be theirs.
Tears stream down her face.

They are safe.
This is all that matters to her.
Worrying about the future could wait for tomorrow.
Today is a day for thankfulness.
All is well.
All are safe.
The church bells gong in the distance.
Tomorrow will be a new day.

 THE DEAD GAME

 

THE WINDOW

THE WINDOW

I will walk closer.
I want to see.
See what lies inside.
Inside the deserted house.
A house that should be empty.
Empty for many years.
But I can see moving shadows.
Floating by the window.
Strange lights at night.
Beckoning to be noticed.
They are noticed.
They have been seen.
By me.
Inside I will go.
Wait!
What’s that?

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

THE DEAD GAME

I can see in the dark night.
I can see the deadly fight.
The small town is about to fall.
No one will be left here at all.

More shadows are coming to town.
One is wearing a fancy crown.
The trade winds are growing in force.
I'll keep meowing till I'm hoarse.

The figures are chanting.
They are also praying.
To some demon from hell.
Now I can hear a bell.

Bells are ringing around us.
I don't want to make a fuss.
But time for us has come to an end.
To these creatures I refuse to bend.

THE DEAD GAME



Kindle

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Nook

http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

 


 

SILENT

SILENT

Can you hear the silence?
It moves.
Like a breathing, living being.
Deeper into the woods,
The silence moves with me.
By my side.
Watching me.
Waiting for any sound
I might make.
For then,
It could silence me.
Forever.

A PUPPET

A puppet on a string.
Creepy.
Surreal.
Never in control.
At someone’s beck and call.
It must end.

Before it’s too late.
Before I turn to wood.
Before I become a Pinocchio.
No puppet life for me.
I will stand up for myself.
I will throw off my strings.
I will walk on my own.
I will be free at last.
Never to be
someone’s puppet
ever again.

THE PHONE CALL

The phone call.
I’ve been on hold
for a long time.
Years have passed.
But I’m still waiting.
One day I will have
my answer.
One day someone will
answer me.
But I will keep waiting
until the end of time.

DO YOU LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?

Do you like what you see
in the mirror every morning?
Is it revealing a hidden secret,
buried deep inside yourself?
A horror that no one can ever see.
A feeling.
A thought.
So repulsive that
it must never see
the light of day.
Keep it hidden behind
your pretty face.
For no one to ever suspect.
What are you hiding?

THE STATUE

THE DEAD GAME

What a beautiful garden.
The moon is shining down from above.
The wind is rustling the leaves.
It is quiet.
I’m alone.
The silence is broken
by crying sounds.
I thought I was alone.
The rest of the guests are inside.
There are statues up ahead.
Wait.
One statue is bent over.
It’s an angel.
And it’s crying.
With real tears.
How could this be?
It could be if it’s Oasis.
Stranger things
have happened here.
Do these statues
come alive at night
and become one of The Dead?
Have they been
stalking us at night?
She’s lifting her head.
I’m getting out of here.
Kindle
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Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj

WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

A school for peculiar children.
How peculiar was peculiar at that time?
Were these children murderers?
Psychopaths?
They sat around a circle.
Doing what?
Terrifying each other?
Or were they terrified
of their teachers?
Imagine the horrors.
Imagine the sadness
between these walls.
No wonder it closed down.
Where are these children now?

KNOCK KNOCK

djferreira224:

2983 by peter holme iii

A house with personality.
Its own unique character.
Sitting on a rise of land.
Watching.
Waiting.
Maybe it isn’t the house,
who is watching and waiting,
but the character who lives inside.
Trick or treat.

THE EMPTY STAIRCASE

I close my eyes to sleep,
and what do I see?
The staircase from my past.
The stairs from my
elementary school.
I could still hear children’s voices
as they run up the stairs to classes.
I hear shouts as they run down
into the basement for lunch.
But I can’t see their faces.
I can only hear their voices.
All I see is the staircase,
waiting for me.
If I go back there, will
the dream go away?
Will new faces and voices
replace the old ones?
I’m too afraid to find out.
I don’t want new nightmares
to pile on top of the old ones.
So I’ll just go to sleep, and
dream about my empty staircase.

LET YOUR IMAGINATION SOAR TO NEW HEIGHTS!

LET YOUR IMAGINATION SOAR TO NEW HEIGHTS!

When you look into the pit of fire,
do you see marshmallows toasting?
Or do you see demons staring out at you?
Each person’s perspective is different,
and mine happens to be creepier than most.




Light the candle
and see where it leads you.
Will it take you out of the darkness,
or lead you further into it?

You can hide your face,
cover it with make-up,
assume strange expressions,
but you are still you.
There is not escaping that truth.

The joy of reading a book
Sit back and let your imagination drift.
Let it take you to far away places.
Meet new people.
Let your imagination soar to new heights!