Category Archives: thoughts

Death in waiting

Darkly, in the as it that turned sharply

Into cold and frosty air

She felt movement everywhere

And as her heart raced and the blood coursed through her veins

You could see her chest rise and fall in a panic like display

And she was nervous of what was soon to be

Would it be a blood letting horror story

In this place illuminated darkly by shades of crimson red

That signified an atmosphere of fear and dread

And as she made her way through corridors of bloodstained walls

She knew exactly as she walked into the big hall what was in store

A nightmare of pain and torture of endless screams and cries

The tension it was palpable as the scent of death started to rise

And sillhouttes could b we made out vaugly in this hall of death

Where many people who had gone before took their final breath

And as she waited in anticipation she felt knife drive in

And as it pierced the skin the pain started to begin

And she could feel the pain and ruin

As the knife stabbed again and again

And as life started to ebb away as she saw the blood flowing

Down the concrete floor towards the drain disappearing

And she wondered what a waste of life and a horrific way to go

As life seeped away in the dark not fast but gradual and slow

To make the whole thing so much worse

She wondered and pondered that no one would know

And the perpertraters would dissolve into the night as all demons do

After enacting this horror show

And as she took one last look around

There was one thing she thought the night should know

If any other man treated her as bad they too would be the next to go

And as she liked the blood from off the blade

She walked away from her ex boyfriend real slow

So that he would realise you don’t treat a demon so

And as he bled to death strapped in a chair from the multiple wounds

She laughed a laugh hysterical then vanished completely into thin air

Without a second thought of conscious care

This beautiful demonic beauty of who men best understand to beware

Because she will take your life in a blink of an eye if you dare

Mess or try to hurt her.


I reside in a state of inertia

I want to love you

I never want to hurt you,

I want to spread kindness

Wherever I go

I want to increase

The spiritual love flow

And offer compassion

And empathy you see

That’s the way I was made to be

With arms wide open

Always ready for a hug

Who is with me in sharing the love

A soil group of awakened beings

All focused on the poisivity

This should be humanities proclivity

To come together in unity

To ensure we can live equally and free

In a state of bliss and harmony

This is how it should be for all humanity.

Me, the open book

OK so I am like a book

One that’s easy to read

Welcome in and take a look

I am not complicated

I am a laid back read

Always hoping to plant a seed

If thought, dreams or spirituality

In the minds of those who read me

Always looking to inspire and inform

My words are mostly loving and warm

You won’t find many words of scorn

Except towards those who promote wars

Or environmental destruction

Or f I stern hate speeches

Read my ad tory as nd enjoy the features

It’s a story of hardship, tradgedy and pain

But it also shows how I always biunce back and learn to smile and laugh again

So take a moment and read me

And hopefully you’ll enjoy what you see

For I am an open book  easy to read

Easy to love and eady to please.



Watch out for Karma

There was once a leader

Who profited from gun sales

The leader was given lots of money

By the people who make guns

All he had to do was keep guns legal

All he had to do was let them profit from people’s death

And all that we can hope for is that he is not assainated

Because it would be the most ironic death

The world has seen as yet.

Fatal liaison

It wasn’t the worst of days but it was far from the best, the sun was shining but the day was chilled and there was a sharp frost and there were frost webs decorating every bush along the road. Cars were covered in an icy covered layer of sparkling whiteness. The only noise was the sound of crisp crunching underfoot as a man in black work boots and trousers and a big blue puffer jacket and a black wooly hat. Every breath he took filled the air with steam eminating from his mouth in cloud like plumes.

The man seemed in a hurry and it was hard to know why without more knowledge of his movement preceeding this present moment.

Turning the corner at the end of the street he jogged to the bus stop as the bus drove slowly up the road. As it stopped the man waited for the doors to open and as they did he stepped onto the bus feeling the warm air caress his red raw cheeks. He reached deep into his pocket and took out some change, told the driver he wanted a single to the train station. After and exchange of coins the man took his seat and the bus moved on its way. Looking around he noticed to his suprise and apparent happiness he was the sole passenger. He then turned his focus to the window to see all that passed by. Pretty soon the bus reached the train station and the man alighted from the bus. Moving quickly he walked at pace into the station and disappeared.

A few hours later there was a breaking news story about a young woman found dead at her home, seemingly strangled to death. There were police outside and going in and out of the house. The same house the man had left earlier.

Was the man the woman’s killer? It seemed obvious that he was. The police said that they believe the victim had met her killer on a dating site.

Later in the evening there was another breaking news story that the police had identified the man from cctv from the bus and had traced him to a flat some miles away in another town. However when they arrived and entered the flat they found him dead. He was found to have been stabbed once in the stomach. The wound it turned out was some hours old.

After an exhaustive investigation in to both of the people involved it transpired she had invited round and killed at least three other men who were buried under her patio and that the man who left her flat managed to despite being stabbed managed to strangle her in self defence.

However further investigations showed that the man was revealed to be a prime suspect in the rape and murder of five women over three towns.

It appeared that on this night in question two killers paths had crossed and that as a result both carried out acts that ended each others lives. The man had clearly believed that though he had been stabbed he could treat the wound himself and that it was not life threatening.

What nobody knew was that the two people had been put in touch with each other by a woman who had known of the man’s secret and who’s brother was one of the woman’s victims. She in her own cold calculating way arranged for the pairs paths to cross on the dating site, being the one to introduce them to each other, that led ultimately to the fatal liason. She sat watching the telly then reading the reports as they unfolded in the press with great satisfaction and a sense of achievement.

In her own way she committed the perfect crime and revenge and that was confirmed when the police stated they were not looking for anyone else in connection with the two deaths.

That’s what she thought. However a week later an officer from CID who had investigated her brothers murder by the dead woman knocked on her door and informed her that she was almost certain that she had played a part in the pairs death but that she was turning a blind eye while L etting her know that if such a sequence of events happened again she would not. As far as the office was concerned justice was fine and it was now at an end. The woman agreed, shut the door went back to her computer and carried on working on the plan for her next victims.


You are just a zombie to me

Inurred of emotion always

Because so much happened

And so much changed

And as a result of this

You developed this zombie way

Going through the motions

But absolutely cold

It’s as if your fire went out

And someone turned off you light

And now you seem dark to me

All feelings have evaporated away

And trust in life and love

All passion seeped away

And bitterness and solitude crept in

And I sit here seeing you

Acting like a zombie

An awful and terrible affliction

Caused by lifes hurt and pains

Many of which afflicted me the same way

But I kept my fire and my passion

I kept my laughter and my light

And I think you are resentful of that

But we both had voices how to act

I chose love and light

And you chose this zombie way of being.

Finish the story November 1 # /Challenge accepted


Copy the story as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
Be sure to pingback or comment on the original post (here) please
Tag only 1 person to continue the story
Have fun!

Are You Coming Over?

The table was set just as it had been for more than sixty years. The place settings grew from two to thirteen in the early years, but for more than forty years, it had been set for two. Marjorie sat at the table and lightly spread orange marmalade on her toast and looked out into the backyard that was once filled with laughter. Now, snow was starting to fall on long silent echoes of the past. She looked across the table at the empty place setting. A silent tear trickled down her cheek.

When she was finished with her morning toast and glass of water, she washed her dishes, put everything away, and listened to the silence. The birds had left weeks earlier and her neighbor poisoned all the squirrels, so it was very quiet now. There used to be ten families of squirrels that would eat, chatter, run, and play all year-long in her garden. Their happiness attracted the winter birds to the garden. She and Bill would sit for hours holding hands and watching the animals play as their child once had.

All was silent now. Their children all grown and long since moved away. Henry and Francis were lost in the war, cancer took Sally, and Benjamin was too busy with his children. She understood. That was the way life worked. Still, it would be nice to hear from him once in a while. She was so tired of the quiet. So very tired.

A light knock on the door caught her by surprise.

“Just a moment,” she called out.

When she opened the door, a little girl in a white summer dress stood on her door step and shivered.

“Goodness,” Marjorie said, “Who are you, and why are you out here in the cold without a coat?”

The girl rubbed her arms and said, …

To Be Continued

(written by Teresa of The Haunted Wordsmith)

nothing. Marjorie could not understand why this young girl was all alone and most certainly without proper clothes, Since the little girl was not speaking, Marjorie tugged at her arm and pulled her inside the warm house.

It was obvious that this little girl did not come from a home where there was enough money and things. Her feet were very dirty and her hair looked as if she had not ever seen sight of a hairbrush. Underneath her fingernails appeared to be dirt or mud. She was very dirty in appearance and Marjorie was feeling more pity as she studied the little girl who was before her.

The little girl said nothing, but gave special attention to the pictures Marjorie had upon her walls. She also rubbed the frames each one by one with her fingers as if to study the woodwork. She remained quite but acted as if she knew this house and all that was inside it, like an old friend. It puzzled Marjorie but her thoughts gave way to finding some warm clothes and running the little girl a very hot bath, with which to bathe herself. Her mind also thought that perhaps she should call the police and report this little girl to them, but she felt a sense of nurturing and wanted to make the little girl as comfortable and warm ass possible.

Although the little girl did not respond she acted as if she knew where the bathroom was and led her own self up the staircase and into the vicinity of the bathroom, waiting for Marjorie to follow in behind her. Marjorie dismissed this odd and strange coincidence as that little girl must have heard the running tub water, Although in the back of her mind she was starting to get uneasy at how comfortable this mute little girl was, in her house.

Marjorie found some clothes and handed them to the little girl and told the little girl to go ahead and wash her self, put on her clothes and then come downstairs and that she would find her something to eat. The little girl just stared at Marjorie for a couple of very silent seconds and then turned towards the bathroom, went inside, gave another look at Marjorie and then shut the door behind her. Marjorie said to herself, “Well I think she knows what a bath is at least.” It appeared that way at least.

In just a little under an hour Marjorie was so sad and feeling so very lonely, yet now she had a complete stranger in her own bathroom, with no explanation or resolution as to how or why. “Stranger things have happened”, she thought to herself. Or have they? She quickly went about looking for something with which to feed the little girl when she came downstairs. She remembered that once there was a story kind of similar that appeared in the local newspaper.

It was a grim story though and the ending was way to tragic to think upon. The story went on to speak of a little girl who apparently showed up at the door of a person living near where Marjorie lives now. The little girl was also mute and found to be very strange and yet very comfortable around these people, just like this one Marjorie had in her house. The story went on to write about the investigation of this little girl and showed that this little girl had been abused by her mother and father and then buried alive out back of her family’s yard, while still alive. The little girl in that story actually unburied herself, and never was the same. Although the house she stumbled upon took her in and tried desperately to help her, the little girl had remained mute and eventually was found hung ni the storage building out back.

No one wanted to rehash that story up since there was such mystery surrounding it and such tragedy. Marjorie recognized the similarities in that story and the happening with this little girl, could it be the same child? “Preposterous” , she thought. Maybe it was her own grief clouding her mind and judgement

(written by MwsR ❤ )

Just why the little girl had chosen to come now seemed to perplexing. The Story of what occurred to her was heart rendering but she wasn’t convinced it was not all just an urban myth. Marjorie went to see if the little girl was OK, as she walked into the bathroom she noticed the rope mark around her neck leaving a red sore mark that refused to heal. The little girl had tied her hair back after brushing it and had washed revealing under the dirt very white skin almost alabaster like. Marjorie smiled and asked if she was getting on alright, the little girl turned and Marjorie saw in the girls eyes ebony blackness, no white of the eyes just deep black voids and as she stared into them almost hypnotised by them, she could hear screaming and crying, as if within them someone was trying to escape. Marjorie was transfixed and overwhelmed and tears filled her own eyes as she realised the little girls spirit was trapped within this body unable to get out and find peace at rest after being buried alive by her parents. Marjorie reached out to the little girl.

Marjorie woke up on the bathroom floor. She had no idea what had happened, she remembered reaching out to touch the little girl then everything went black. With some effort she picked herself up and searched for the girl. It was dark now, and as she walked downstairs in the dim light a he saw candles leafing from the stairs to the living room. Marjorie followed fearfully, hesitantly, what was happening she thought? As she enter red the front room the girl was sitting cross legged on the dining table surrounded by candles in a meditative position and was chanting mysterious words and incantations.

Marjorie looked on horrified and asked in a stuttering meek voice what was happening and why did the little girl come here?

What followed took Marjorie aback

(to be continued)

I am tagging

Viktoria Emelkin

A stranger passing through

A stranger from a strange land

Appearing through the fog

Striding the landscape no sign of being lost

He was clearly other worldly

In his attire and his look

There was crackling underfoot

From the sharpness of the frost

And the darkness was giving way slowly to light

But the stranger dressed in black robes carried with unblinking eyes

Fived upon his mission to discover all about this earth

And why it is humanity does not cherish its worth

He wears a look of perplexed determination, yet also of curiosity

This stranger from a strange land would take in all he sees

Then will disappear into the ether to of the universe of dreams

To ponder on the state of mankind and its capability of evolving

With no desire to conquer a planet that’s killing itself

But more about becoming one with the rest of the multiverse one day.