The Haunting Seas: An Eerie Sea Story

The Haunting Seas

From tropical shores of lush green,
Horse-shoed with pearly sands and coral,
The fishing boat departs.
Following the line of the horizon,
And guided by nautical charts,
I travel into the haunting seas.

Such tempests forewarned as tornadoes rise,
Twisting between waves high on tendrils,
Crests so tall and nightmarishly still,
Threatening in the haunting waters.

Forcing through as darkness sinks,
Echoing garish hues of midnight grey,
Splashing on the up thrust of each showery tower.
Onwards my Davidian raft crawls,
As rushes of foam flows down each turret.
Lesser breakers hurtle the craft so small.

Such tornadoes dance and whirl cruelly,
A ballet of exquisite, terrifying beauty,
Spinning so proud, nightmarish gaits,
Threatening in the haunting straights.

Through the gloom shines an alien light,
Beckoning victims to strange shores.
Unexpectedly thrust up onto rocky shingle,
Where two identical nymphs play in clear liquid.
Dressed in pale blue, wan white hair to match,
And eyes so piercing, ringed in cobalt.

Such innocent beauty as the creature descends,
Tanned leathers, wizened face, outlandish,
Goggled eyes, a shark in the ocean,
Threatening the sprites maliciously.

An ark appears, wooden and over-bearing,
Hope springs for the girls so afraid.
They clamber on board to escape their pursuer,
To be met by other trackers desiring their gifts.
A secret enchantment, as the twins speak wordlessly.
In fear they sprint spritely to the aft and dive again.

Such fearsome hunters, hideous in appearance, alien,
Litter the shores in search. I look yonder.
Colourful villa doors open instantaneously,
Haunting portals slam shut simultaneously.

Stopped for questioning on the matter,
Beyond my comprehension, but the hybrid enquires.
I have no knowledge to impart and escape.
Taking breath in a rock pool, leaning on coral,
Movement behind my back, I turn cautiously,
Under weeds and gravel a pink eye stares hauntingly.

Such terror drove the nymphs to immerse like crabs,
Suffocating beneath the tides eyes stinging in salt,
My hand moves and the petrified eye follows,
Hauntingly they live stifling, dying.

Attempts to dig prove futile, injuring the lone eye,
Predators enshroud me, unable to see,
The angels protect their gift, willing to die.
Bubbles rise without panic, but fear espies.
I am returned to my vessel, haunted by the single eye.
Into the deep once more I flow, to be lost eternally.

Such guilt and helplessness binds my soul,
Such horror troubles my whirlwind mind,
Such blackness engulfs, the tendrils break,
Spilling the haunting wave over me.

In unchartered territory I float,
Ghost ship as dimensions meet,
Appearing, disappearing,
A sea legend.
A damned soul.
Threatening in the haunting seas.

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The War of Walls by Bayley Kelly

The War of Walls by Bayley Kelly

One hundred years in the future a time machine is built. Scientists send the machine back to get native Americans, cowboys and dragons.

The English side with the Native Americans and the Americans with the cowboys. The English build a wall. Using; jeeps, tanks and planes they fight for six years. The cowboys break the wall, but lose the war.

After the war a resistance forms and is sent to New York to disable the tanks controlling the security building which houses the president. Some get away, some are killed.

The President’s last personal, best fighter is promoted to General.

One Hundred years in the future a time machine is built to enlist war troops. After the resistance, America was angry as the resistance killed. The Americans hijacked a plane, so the English grabbed an attack plane. The American General said,
‘We can’t shoot it down!’ His Major had an idea.

The Major said,
‘Go above the plane and drop soldiers on it!’ The General said to the Major,
‘You are right.’ As the hijacked plane flew he pushed the Major onto the attack plane. The Major’s team took out all of the enemy and both war planes landed safely.

(Originally published by Entropy2)

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Wasted War by Ashley Land

Wasted War by Ashley Land

Crunch, crunch, crunch,
Went the tanks on the ground.

Crack, crack, crack,
The guns made this sound.

As the men hit the ground,
They looked around Searching for why they came.

House to house, Street to street;
The footsteps of dozens of feet.

Looking for these bombs Alas, there were none!

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Sid: A Dog Tale

Sid

Tears streamed from Charlotte’s blue eyes. Her protective Doberman ‘Sid’ had died. Even her job as a vet did not help. The cancer had spread.

Two weeks after Sid’s sad demise Charlotte tied her brown locks into a bun and returned to saving other pets’ lives. She accepted only token payments to cover her lonely expenses.

One moonlit evening whilst withdrawing takeaway cash a scuffle ensued. Police arrested a crook from the off license nearby. As he was dragged away the thief shouted back,
‘Lady, you’re lucky you had a big dog watching you, I was gonna rob you first!’

 

Smothered: Zombie Horror

Smothered

Awakening after years of acrid slumber.
Soil weighing down heavy encasing his corpse.
Creatures move blindly around in ravenous hunger.
Rotting fingers scrap agonisingly at the wooden prison.

A hand emerges, driven by dead strength.
He is excruciatingly born through damp, grim soil.
Under the blood of the moon climbs the reanimated flesh.
Seeking to feed the wasting hunger within his putrefied limbs.

Perishing meat corrodes his rancid form.
He lurches forth into the night seeking to ease pain.
Memories long faded, replaced only by animalistic urges.
Corrosive thing, no longer human, the lives lost are his gain.

FREE EBOOK: TALES BORN OF A MOOD DISORDER

Howdy Hi Halloween Horrors,

I have made this e-book free for the time being. I hope that it will be beneficial to those working and living with mood disorders. The tales demonstrate the deep empathy and emotion that resonate in those living with mood disorders. Dark grit contrasts with eternal beauty. Please do feel free to connect if you relate to the tales, or if you want to chat about mood disorders.

Love XXXkkk

Marian: A Horror Story

She circled the cemetery, edging around the crumbling stones and reading the names and brief epitaphs of people from the past. Set away from the town, scratched into the barren country hills like some despised monolith to a cruel era. There were no pathways, nor taps for refreshing flowers. she doubted flowers had been laid for centuries. Her deep set eyelids, stained with brown shadow hung over profound blue irises, protected by thickly coated black lashes. She hid underneath a taut, round, brown hat hanging her head as if shamed or full of remorse. Worn red stained her narrow lips.

Around she went again; circumventing the stones, creeping in and out of the gaps between graves and studying the readings; Beloved wives, children lost to the horrors of disease or accidents, adored fathers and grandfathers, humble mothers. The stories came alive, played out in front of her like ghosts re-enacting a theatrical performance on the moist grass. Her suit dress clung tightly to her lean frame. High heels sank and re-emerged from the damp Earth. Somewhere souls would tingle as her expensive shoes delved into the burial ground. She was searching for someone. Another swig from a discreetly hidden bottle.

She tried to remember. The morning must have came and went. She visited regularly, her job forgotten, her home lay in ruins and her friends no longer existed. They called her ‘Marian’ once; a telephonist and wife. Her beloved Dan. He was a majestic figure, an accountant, tall and darkly handsome. They so longed to have children. Tried desperately until the months stretched into years and years turned into resentment. one morning she woke up and realised she was effectively alone, sharing a house with a man she barely knew anymore. That same day the knock came at her door.

She took the day off of work. An irate husband told her all that she needed to know and could not bare to hear; adultery. Another woman, and she was expecting his child. Now, daily, she waited with him; found him lost among the dead. She searched, she read between the lines of the life stories. Envisaged the neglectful mothers, odious, cheating husbands, lost children swamped in suffering; laying in a cold subterranean hell. Then, she would wait by his tomb. Reminisce about better times; beach trips, cabaret and wine, dancing, planning lives together. No more planning required, no life!

Blackened clouds chilled the air, drowning her in murky mists. she stumbled between headstones, balanced herself with shaking arms and forced her way to the midst of the boneyard. Then came the light, sharp flashes blinding her. She could see him lying limp. The lightening flashed again; she burned and pulsated. Her body, burned, scorched and convulsed.

The switch was flicked off. Marian was pronounced dead by her executioner. Condemned by the state for the murder of her husband.

As the clouds cleared and the storm passed, she swore she saw Dan’s ghostly lips smile.

She circled the cemetery again.