horror

The Staggerer

The Staggerer

 

They come for me. I can hear them in the distance,

Silent tears I cry. The fast pace of my heart beat insistent.

If I run so many pitfalls, so many traps, death awaits,

But if I stay here, the outlook would be one of a grim fate.

 

Tis very foggy, the sights I behold will not be within my finger tips,

I can feel the eerie chill, silent tears upon my cheek falling upon my lips.

I shiver. the dampness of the night invades my bones and I stagger from my hiding place.

They have passed me by for the moment, Quietly, quietly or they will resume their chase.

 

My breath stilled as I saw a staggerer left behind, to trap me? To guard me?

To late the soft breeze, ah the scent of my fear, he turned, I tried to flee.

Skeletal fingers, putrid smell of death, eye sockets breath of fiery red,

The Staggerer called by some, no mind, no vision, a forever life of dead.

 

No, don’t screech your heartless cry of death, do not bring in more,

But he did. Answering calls, echos throughout the jungle they found what they searched for.

Me. Yes I was their prey and no hope anymore of escape.I struggled , then screamed,

Face to face, fiery eye sockets burning intensely devouring my soul, maybe it is a dream?

 

No it was not, was indeed a nightmare, but a very real one, much to real,

Weakness pulled at me. I tried to fight it, really I did but I could no longer feel.

Round and round like a child’s top I spun, surrounded by staggerers, fiery eyes ablaze,

But it mattered not any longer for my new world was one of a lost dead haze.

 

I was lead like a child to a massive hole and tossed in . I felt the impact, yet I did not,

What was I doing here? Where was I? Who was I? It was unimportant all these things I forgot.

So I just lay there without moving, without thinking, and perhaps without feeling,

No. I can not give up, I won’t give up my soul. I tried to rise, my mind reeling.

 

I turned on my stomach and pushed myself up on my knees, so very tiring,

But I must continue, had to go on, oh so much energy, my body was expiring.

I staggered, then giggled. A staggerer, no not yet, hope to never be,

So where was I?. I must feel my way around cause so dark I could not see

 

Ah an underground cave, there was a trace of light down a corridor to the right,

I could hear voices, I could hear screams, horrifying screams, gave me a fright.

But I must continue, I could not quit I had to escape. Oh I want to go home.

I peeked in the room with the light and had to stop a scream , blood hit bone.

 

Not mine, no. Something evil lurked in that room, A doctor perhaps, dressed as such.

Evil experiments, creating staggerers, but why? Oh my head hurt, this was too much.

So how to stop him. Think, think, Slowly my mind was coming back and was so relieved,

Boy how am I gonna explain this one back home, I really don’t think anyone will believe.

 

His back was turned so silent was my feet, I picked up a rock and hit him from behind,

No blood? No blood.His eye sockets were fiery red, the putrid smell of death and I’m in a bind.

I stagger around eye sockets fiery red, putrid smell of death. Something I should remember but I forget,

Skeletal fingers search for prey, darkness is my friend, something, yes something don’t remember but I regret.

 

 

 

 

 

View ladyreck's Full Portfolio

Lost to Sea

light a fire just to watch it burn
Sit across the street with empty hands
Behind a tree unnoticed, so it's not my turn 
I have infinite thoughts, but empty plans

Ending up only to be pretty hollow
Ideas only stay for portion of a second
Echoing through the empty walls. and then comes nothing
Diffusing into the air, to become a forgotten particle
and nothing comes to follow


To set the ominous breeze,
Over the most vibrant sea, that suddenly lost color
and the skies are now gone and dull
They paint the picture to not excite, but simply appease


To be trapped inside this now and empty void
With nothing but everything destroyed
To say that we are fine, and simply avoid
Now we sail, swift onto the large sea of contradictions
Too lost within, that we forget our own convictions
Letting loose the anchor of anxiety, and thus become the restrictions

 

But this is not the end,
A man aboard throws over his only friend
And a storm rolls in, and then our destination is not known
As realization becomes the new sun, and hearts are turned to stone
A daughter now deserted by her parents is overwhelmed in strife
She whimpers, but can not help wonder what makes up this sickly life
A world where people phase in, and phase out
and thoughts become ideas, and ideas become a shout
and how long does a day go on to stay out and last,
Before awesome expectations become invisible, straight into the past?

 

Will the ship find it's way to land, or sink in despair?
Great ideas no match for the roaring waves of Negativity and ignorance?
Those striving so long for a real sun, to only be in vain, deprived?
And those hopelessly waiting for relief, to be cruelly concealed, unaware?

 

The masterpiece of a book now weathered to nothing but scribbles
A great idea now hidden and destroyed by life's cruel riddles
Will the hands be strong at ease to create another inspiration?

Or will it fail to swim over the simplest waves and forget it's own foundation?






Permanent death

He fed off fear in the weak;

He showed no sympathy for the meek.

There was an empty space in his soul

And only blood could make him whole.

He would suck life from the living just because he was bored

Nothing could stop him not even the Lord.

The victim would always scream in horror and despair

Every loved one at the time was unaware.

Trembling and shaking their eyes filled with tears

She had no emotion other than her fears.

Then it happened, murder can’t be undone

He did what he always did he had to pack up and run.

The scene was always brutal, cruel, and deadly

He unstained the walls of blood while humming a medley.

This was his life and never failed to cover his tracks

But it wasn’t long until he stroke again with his axe.

 
Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem I had to right for my English class that had to create a "macabre tone" 

View jessicaschwaeble's Full Portfolio

A Hole: Pain Through The Brain

Folder: 
Dreams

I waked up,

In the mirror I had my closeup.

There was a hole in my throat,

Fastly I slipped into my coat.

 

I went to the hospital,

I was worried I recall.

I gave the fault to Abra,

Who was able to the macabre.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A dream I had.

View sickyx666's Full Portfolio

The wind howls red

 

 

 

Fingers frozen, jacket tight, the merlot leaves taking flight

Foot steps long ,quick in pace, better hurry home, you are not alone

The wind howls red, the chill runs deep, you should be in bed, to Grandmas keep

The bramble cottage comes in sight, everyones sleeping, there is no light

You skip closer, just a little more, oblivious to the danger lurking beyond the door.

 
C.Grainger

Dr Clockstop's Sinister Sideshow

Off with your tweed and on with my silk,

The colourful carriage rears over the hill,

The Sinister Sideshow has come back to town,

Do you hear that unmistakable sound?

The clunking and banging of Clockstop's things,

Books and such, yes, and an army of strings. 

Strings, you say? Yes! His puppet display!

 Never been seen, always hidden away,

We know that they're locked in carriage number three,

If he sees you, I'll say it was nothing to do with me!

But enough of that now, On With The Show!

Starting off with a bow so unnaturally low, 

The leader's a dwarf, so we all know his face,

Then his ladies are adorned with silk, string and lace,

Blues, greens and reds dazzle drinkers and wives,

Diamonds glimmer lights into transfixed eyes,

There are songs of old friendships and songs of old lovers,

But the men see not stories, just girls in bright colours. 

'That's rather sinister...' Hmm? Yes, it is...

But old Clockstop knows where all these men live.

That is the trick of Doctor Clockstop's routine, 

You can leave if you manage to keep your hands clean!

Those who don't often boo at the Final Act,

As the puppet show dancers are emotionless and flat. 

But do not be fooled, for the puppets aren't wood.

I might have suggested you run, if I could...

Doctor Clockstop will follow with puppets in hand,

You can plead, but don't expect him to understand:

Men who grope women and make crude remarks,

Can expect to be treated with the same disregard.

"You were leering, and that reflects little respect..."

Now you're dead, with a puppet string tied round your neck.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

© Lizzie Ayres, 2013

I am dead

I am dead, that is that, right now my only friend, is this scary rat, I'm in a sewer, it smells real bad, a man shoved my body here, it was real sad, he killed me with a gun, a blow in my chest, then he put me in this sewer, and laid me to rest, the funny thing is, I wasn't completely dead, he put me down here, and thought in his head, " she must be dead, I shot her heart", no actually, you missed that part, so for a few hours I laid, in agony and pain, trying to keep, myself sane, now I am dead, I'm sad to be, and I haunt the man who murdered me.

Abdul Alhazred

Folder: 
Poetry

Alhazred was born in Yemen,

Traveling in the known world;

Amassing lore and legend,

And the tales of the fiends.


 

A writer and a poet,

He was educated much.

Geometry, algebra, Alchemy

And magickal incantations' need.


 

From the cup of occult knowledge

He drank deep...

Driving a normal person

To madness or beyond.


 

Alhazred was once a normal man,

With desires like we all can.

He was Arab by birth,

With a pale skin in rebirth.


Being labeled the mad,

As he was once a dad.

But had to eat his child,

By the King of the Palace's might.


 

He wrote down the Necronomicon,

In more than one song...

The obscure, the forgotten,

The suppressed, the rotten.


Never meant to be read;

It causes insanity with speed.

Not interpreted rationally,

The thoughts cause a rally.


 

Alhazred was insane,

By the lore he learned within.

But he wrote clear,

With many a tear.


 

The state of the Universe,

In reality suspense;

Plaything of mad gods at best,

Sewer of evil in the north, south, east, west.


 

Humans dare not dream of this,

For their peaceful lives they cannot miss.

A warning and guide this book is,

And by the Djinns you do wish.


 

Alhazred died, not a mystery,

It is written in history.

In the marketplace,

He was erased.


By the Demon from beyond,

Who wanted him gone.

Blood upon the sand,

There he was banned.


In broad daylight,

With many a sight.

 

He meddled with evil things,

With beings with wings.

He is now dead,

After he bled...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the Mad Poet Abdul Alhazred who wrote the Necronomicon.

who am i?

 

when all confidence has left you,

and you feel bereft of love,

forsaken by those who claimed they cared,

that's when i'll fit you like a glove.

 

i'll wait behind your neediness,

and use arrogance, he's my friend,

i'll have you projecting all of me 

onto children, women, and men.

 

that's when i do my finest work,

and all of me i'll bring,

when others up and leave you,

i'll infect you, and do my thing.

 

my presence will be cunning,

my manipulation sly,

i'll have you wrapped around me,

you won't even ask yourself why.

 

the more of you i can consume,

the larger we become,

to contaminate all is what i want,

'cause YOUR pain, to me, is FUN!

 

a fiendish scowling wimp, you see,

a psychopath, my dear,

enjoying all your suffering,

your kidnapper...i'm fear.

 

 

 

 

10:07 AM 6/22/2013 ©

Author's Notes/Comments: 

the only thing to ever fear, is fear itself. ~franklin d. roosevelt~

 

and that's the truth.

 

.