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Assassin, assassin

I am an assassin

Stone cold heart

And subdued passion

Assassin, assassin

See my steel knife flashing

I can send your life crashing

There is ice in my veins

I’ve a hawk eye sight

If you see me one fateful night

Fear for it may see me taking your life

Assassin, assassin

I move in the shadows

I am a ghost in the darkness

And your worst nightmare

I am an assassin.

Image courtesy of Pinterest

Mandem thing

That boy don’t know any different

Lives like a rude boy and thinks he’s significant

Don’t disrespect him

He’s a member of a dangerous crew

Show him any disrespect he will shank you

Rude boy he ain’t scared to

Do anything his crew tell him to do

Because they say they’re his fam

They give him a gun

Bang bang

Another member of another crew dying

Bleeding on street lying

Going cold as his life ebbs away

To rude boy it’s just a game

Until one day

When he got some of the same

Motorbike pulls up

Bang bang

Another life has turned to dust

Just another life wasted

Because of society

Another life wasted

Because of money drugs and things

Driven by poverty

It’s the only escape they can see

Because they are rude boy gangstas

They don’t see the wrong in it

Because these rude boy gangstas

Have only ever known this

Young men dying

Stabbed or shot to death on the street

These rude boy gangstas

Will rob you for what’s on your feet

It’s a game to them

But don’t go disrespecting them

Or next time you’ll see them

Bang bang

You will wind up dead

Killed by the mandem

It what you get if you come across them

Bad man, waste man

It’s a mandem thing.

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.

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

Equality through sharing the wealth equity

I’ve barely had a rise on my wage in seven years

Meanwhile all the bills rise fuelling my fears

That I am falling further behind the cost of living

What’s going on is there something I am missing

We a living to work, not working to live

And the government and corporations are flaying the skins from bones

And they’ve divided us so we all feel alone

While they sip champagne in their luxury homes

Bosses get the cream while workers are fed gruel

While they’re expected to keep pushing productivity up

And as they rake in the cash they say it is not enough

But its funny how they do so well while we find it do tough

It’s a messed up society as nd an unequal state

We are constantly told we are easy to replace

But if we came together in a show of strength and worker force

Maybe then we may give them the best lesson they could be taught

That your workers are the most important facet of your business

So you should treat us better and give us more equality

Through the greater sharing of the wealth equity.


The goosebumped flesh

The chill of the bones

Lost and far from home

In eerie darkness

She feels the fear and dread

In this place

The smell of death

In this place

The smell of rotting flesh

Halloween screams

Become real they seem

In this run down tenement

In this slum dog scene

Behind the bright lights

And pumpkin lit night

Behind the scary mock fright

A real horror is taking place

As she seeks the paranormal

In a place once known

For death, violence and hate

She met her gruesome

Unexpected fate

When she came

Face to face

With the ghostly entity

That terrorised this place

As this once serial killer

Stalked here until forever and a day

Laying waste to life

In vicious ways

As her life was taken that day

After being pushed through a window

On to fence stakes

That were below

Surrounding this place

She died in a hideous

And very grisly way.

Power of the sword

Dark was the house shrouded in obsidian

Until the moment the spark of light from the flaming torch

Lit up all around like a fiery burning sun

She acclimatised her eyes so she Coul look around

And felt outside the rumble through the ground

Heard to roar and clanging of metal

She looked frantically for sword that she sought

And there in the corner an old antique chest

She opened the lid and what she saw took away her breath

A bright shiny sword glinting in the torch light

She took it out from the chest and ran out the back door

And there her army waited pensive and ready

She moved them all to the open space

And then were steadied waiting for the enemy

And then over the crest of the hill they then rose

And the warrior queen in her legendary pose

Pointed forward with her sword

And let out a scream

Forward to glory in the name of your queen

And her army moved forward slow at first but getting faster

Full steam ahead to victory or disaster

The horses snorted fury baring their teeth

The passion in her army now being fully released

Raced hard with no intention of shirking

Her army full on driving and beserking

Like a massive combined beast

Hungry to eat, the enemy in front of them that they were about to besiege

Then a thunderous clash and like a loud clap of thunder

The enemy crumbled and felt themselves being swept under

A wave like light that let loose from the queen’s magical sword

And she slayed a large number of this menacing horde

With one single slash and wave of its power

She knew that it could bring about her finest hour

And the battle was long as was it bloody

Yet she fought like a dervish in a real hurry

And at the end of the night and in the dawning of a new day

She stood victorious over the enemy she and her army had slayed

And as sh sat triumphant upon her horse

Sword in the air the magic took its course

And bound her heart and her alligience to death and to glory

From now on she would write new stories

As determined by the magic and not by her will

And in the afterlife I heard she’d is warring and fighting still.

Hidden thoughts

You were my killing joke

My destructor, and my threats,

You were the system

And my conflict

You were so crass and a poison girl,

A subhuman, foetus on a wheel,

You were an A head, a rubella ballet,

A flux of pink indians on display,

A transplant, rancid, mob

A rudimentary peni,

A rage against the machine.

My five senses

I could sense something was wrong

So I went to see moving carefully among the trees

I saw a building of harsh stone

Unforgiving standing alone

I crept up with stealth to see through a small window

Hoping it would reveal what was inside

Curious me, with my curious nature.

Looking in like I spy

I saw things that were vile

This building was a slaughter house

A place of death, a place of pain.

Peering in I saw animals queuing up to be put to death

Cows on the right and pigs hung from hooks on the left

No hope or salvation

Just simply death

And I saw the terror in their eyes

To me this was no shock or surprise.

I crept around too the door

And was not prepared for what I saw

Blood running like a river as they slit pigs throats

As they fired into the head of the cow a bolt

I could smell the blood and smell the death

And in that moment I felt bereft

I could hear the deafening terrified screams

From the pigs as they were dying

Then sent into searing hot water and steam

So as to strip the skin with comparative ease

The cows were hauled up on hooks

To suffer the same fate if I am not mistook.

In this place I could almost taste

The sickening meat on display

I moved inside where a cow was hanging

I stroked the hair upon its face

Said a prayer for its soul

And felt the disgrace carried out by the human race

I could feel the last of the warmth evacuate.

I touched, smelt, saw, heard and tasted the death of animal innocence

And vowed never to eat meat again

A man came over and tried justifying this

Saying that they were bred for it.

I was not convinced

I just felt sick

I said nothing but left

Double quick

This obscenity would now live with me

Long on in my thought, dreams and memories.

Contest! We don’t need no stinking contests

Contests! good for building ego’s up

great for knocking creativity down

as I pore over words and sounds

to make my poetry jump off the page

to come alive in others minds

in the most imaginative way.

Contests! we don’t need them

they drive us crazy every day

putting our best foot forward

and doing something that is brave

putting your art out there for judging

nurtured and created with much loving

only to be brutally dimissed

or even worse maybe even savaged

Contests! Huh, well this I find an interesting challenge

maybe I will just have a go at this

rise to the challenge and try to win it

not because I don’t think it still stinks

but because in my own way we become

ever so slightly addicted to it

looking for some kind of justification

for writing poetry and putting it out to the nations

or just because we have a competitive edge

contests! I’ve won a couple so see what’s next

see if I can be the best, I mean i wish everyone all the best

I just enter for a bit of fun, not to be just number one!

but being unplaced leaves me undone

but hey, let’s show a little grace keep a smile upon our faces

swallow this bitterest pill and compete until they lose the will

to misjudge my work again, I am the top contestant man!

enter contests or be dammed, stinking contests drive me mad

Argh!!!! is that even a word?


17/7/18 (In response to a contest challenge :))