A FEW MORE STEPS

Icy cold.

My toes turn numb.

My fingers tingle.

The wind howls.

Sleep tempts me.

But I must continue.

A few more steps.

Silence wraps around me.

I raise my face to the sky.

The colors take my breath away.

BORN FREE

I will fight.

Fight the hunters.

Fight to the death.

I will ride proud and free.

Free as the wind.

I will not be ridden.

Man will not tame me.

I was born free.

I will die free.

THE WOMAN IN THE SHADOWS

Each night a woman appears.

Her shadow floats across the dimly lit garden.

The wind whistles in her wake.

One night, she doesn’t appear.

What happened to her?

I still wait.

A MELODY

ourperfectearth Deactivated

Gates of the Arctic National Park, AK, 11:07PM [OC] [3072×2304]

Grass sways in the wind.

Swaying in unison.

To a melody.

Of their own.

FLY LIKE THE WIND

Source:menpale

Fly like the wind

Along the country road

Past rolling plains,

Majestic mountains.

Beauty on every side.

ABANDONED

Abandoned Library (by katka.havlikova)

Abandoned books.

Knowledge lost.

Potential buried.

Animals scurry past

Discarded pages

That no one will read.

The wind sighs.

RIDE WITH THE WIND

RIDE WITH THE WIND

The Dead ride the night.
They ride with the wind.
The daylight is their enemy.
Lock your doors.
Cover your windows.
You might be next.
They are a select group.
They torment their victims.
They are bloodthirsty.
See you in hell.

THE DEAD GAME

Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP

Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj  

FOOTSTEPS IN THE SNOW

The brisk nip in the air,

as we trudge in the snow.

We feel an icy wind on our faces

as it pummels our bodies.

Someone else has done it.

We follow the footsteps,

a frozen trail in the snow.

ALONE IN A CEMETERY

ALONE IN A CEMETERY

The wind whispers.

The trees sway.

Air hisses through the leaves.

Shadows lurk between gravestones.

With long robes, they sweep toward me.

A statue looms in the distance.

A winged angel turns her cold face 

and faces me.

A wicked grin curves her mouth.

Her wings take flight.

And so do I.

ANCHORS IN THE WIND

ponderation:

Postcard from Tulum by Todd Wall

Calm blue waters.

Pink sand.

Palm trees wave in the sea breeze.

A burst of wind lifts the palm trees.

From their roots, they fly.

From their anchors in the sand.

A puff of wind

and they’re gone.

BORN FREE

I will fight.

I will fight the hunters.

I will fight to the death.

I will ride proud and free.

Man will not tame me.

I will not be ridden.

I will remain as free as the wind.

I was born free.

I will die free.

WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

WHERE THE WIND BLOWS

The trees of the forest shiver and shake,

their long limbs trembling for the next quake.

Their bodies blaze a glaring white

with tears frozen from their new plight. 

The world has become hard and cold.

My trembling body feels old.

Surrounded on four sides by white, 

the bright glare has blinded my sight.

White is the color of my nightgown

as I stand and shiver with a frown.

A shadow emerges from the trees.

I hope it is not him, pretty please.

My body moves forward against my will.

I grab a thick tree and try to hold still.

I dig my feet into the packed snow,

but I must go where the wind might blow.

THE DEAD GAME SERIES

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07PDNPV59?ref_=series_rw_dp_labf

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/%22The%20Dead%20Game%20Series%22?Ntk=P_Series_Title&Ns=P_Series_Number&Ntx=mode+matchall

TRAPPED IN HELL

lilipilyspirit Deactivated

Sascha Schneider (German, 1870–1927), Eichenwald auf Ruegen (Oak Forest on Ruegen Island), 1925

The forest grows dark.

It comes alive.

Wood arms reach for me.

Roots uncurl from the ground.

Trees shake and dance.

As the wind moans.

Dark shadows follow me.

Moonlight teases me.

I’m trapped in hell,

where the sun doesn’t shine.

THE DEAD GAME SERIES

WELCOME THE MORBID & CURIOUS

The cobblestones glisten

outside the dark cemetery.

Gravestones stand tall

in the heavy fog.

Moans sweep the winds

that rustle the lifeless trees.

A gate stands open

to welcome the curious.

Footsteps draw closer

to my hiding place.

A cloaked figure enters

the home of The Dead.

It enters a mausoleum

with an angel standing guard.

Goosebumps riddle my body

as I inch forward from my spot.

Dark shadows drift to the door

that the figure has left open.

I can’t stand the suspense any longer

and so I must follow their lead.

I must find the secret lair

of The Dead and gone.

THE DEAD GAME SERIES