Cold Cemetery Nights (microfiction)

Out here in the cold cemetery nights, the greenish-blue tint of my death fantasies come alive. I’m not much a fan of the waking hours; the dead are more on my level, the way they hold nothing back when they speak to me and tell me of their underground dreams and experiences. I think it was my father who said, when I was just a young boy, that, “The dead hold secrets the living can learn from, if only we listen to the whispers of the night.”

Cold cemetery nights, not such a fright to me. Others have rebuked me for my twilight walks, stalking among the graves, but I ignore them. The gravedigger works overtime every night; I’m not sure if he’s dead or alive. I see him digging these deep holes most nights, allowing the souls to re-enter the world. The gravedigger’s name is Cain – he has the brightest blue eyes, a slim yet muscular frame, and hands so calloused they bleed every night.

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Nightmare Within the Nightmare (microfiction)

Along the river, the dream skyline beckons to me. Awash in frosted colors of winter, a mixture of cool blues, greens, and yellows, each light is a thousand people burning and dying away. Those high skyscrapers and towers shooting from cold, neon concrete, and those burning people screaming in agony in unison, is the perfect nightmare chorus for this evening.

The river water reflects the shades of my character flaws. A little bit of gluttony, lust, pride, and other deadly sins, a watery grave to put them in. I’m approaching the harbor with my doppelgänger, a slightly deformed version of myself; the eyes are too sunken, the teeth too sharp, and the appetite too large.

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The Devil Hiding in Plain Sight (a poem)

The searchlight found the devil
Hiding in plain sight
He has always been a vessel
For the children of the night

He sees me in my dreams
I can never quite escape him
Whenever I go to scream
He peels off my skin

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Hush, Little Baby (flash fiction)

Halloween may be over, but that doesn’t mean we should stop reading and writing creepy fiction! Here’s a piece of horror flash fiction about a child screaming in the woods and a scary encounter. It’s about 630 words and has an estimated reading time of 2 and half minutes. Let me know what you think!

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My Encounter with the Black Cat (a poem)

The black cat is a symbol of bad luck
Don’t let it pass you in the alleyway
If you see one, you are struck
With a future of despair and decay

I saw a black cat on Halloween night
The feline had yellow eyes like moons
I thought she was a very fearful sight
And I thought of impending doom

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Witches Chant their Spells (a poem)

The witches chant their spells
And we wallow in our private hells
We listen to tolling church bells
We wonder what compels us
To circle around the cauldron
And obey sinister doctrines

Witchcraft is not always evil
But it is in my little village
Our laws are quite medieval
And we have revoked privileges
Of the saints in the town square

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