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There is a girl. She is staring at me; her eyes narrow slits, but from what I can see, are vibrant yellow. How strange. There is a glow from her eyes in the aphotic area of the shrubbery.
The old king sat staring at this flimsy creature so daring. So small but enough to make the old king fall. Sweet whispers such love so he took of her glove.
Her eyes fill her pillow with a river of tears, To drown her screams through sleepless nights, Her mind creates dark swirls of her thoughts, To release her terror to all new heights.
So I left jasper looking after the house while I went for a beer. I laughed when I thought of Lucy. She was bald. Then a wicked Idea came into my head.
The yellow eyes of "It" pierced the darkness of that cold winters night like a lightning bolt in a stormy sky.
Sometimes feel like a star most of the time like a monster I don't like this side, trying to hide it so deep inside Don't want you to see, please stay away from me Feeling the rage, breaking...
I was in a station, sitting on a bench and waiting for the train to come. Presently, a lady holding a baby to her chest sat down next to me.
The queen of hearts. Lady in red. Shrapnel laying dead. the deck her game bed. bleeding red on the face of her card. The queen of hearts she steals their hearts. bleeding eyes like poison darts.
As I lay here quietly breathing, The quiet night outside perceiving, My eyes upon the ceiling wide in fear; The house below is still, With no sound to break the chill, Save the blood within my heart...
*brief warning* Sing a song of sixpence, A knife gash down your thigh, Four and twenty poisons, Baked into a pie, When the pie was opened, You took a nice, big bite, Oh, seeing your body on the...
The 7- year old boy played the violin like it was a monster he had to slay, but instead of blood there were tones. Beautiful tones indeed, but there was something dark behind them.
You can not find me. I am mysterious. If you think you can. You are delarios. I will only be there. When you need me most. I will not come over. For a silly toast. I come and go as I please.
*I'm writing this at 11:54 PM. Judge me all you like, but this is a bit more sinister than my usual stuff...* The sun has long abandoned me, replaced by the silver moon.
[this story contains some dark themes that I myself find quite unnerving.] "HEADS WILL ROLL" The sickening chant of hundreds of people willing me to die was not something that I could...
Part four. Re-birth. Boy gets out of bed. Scratches his head. Could swear he was dead. A dark voice just said. His eyes have now darkened. His heart was now black. Dark clouds were parting.
When no breeze rustles The lush summer leaves And the suffocating heat hangs Among the trees, I want to take you for a gentle stroll, Along the river, to a place I know, Where a dirty old sheet Hangs...
Hi, my name is Norman I'm as normal as can be But if you trust your senses You should stay away from me I own a little resting place Along the interstate It was a thriving business But not so good of...
I begin my journey unaware. In my own world where I am safe. Then someone catches my eye, Someone beautiful. She draws me closer. Like a wasp to honey, Moth to a flame. Steadily I walk towards her.
Throw me down,. Make that retching sound,. I wager your soul,. The devil licks it,. Slick with red spit,. This is raw war,. Of flamed hearts,. And magic darts,. Rip out my hair,.
He was feeling sharp that night, like the edge of a dagger catching moonlight. He knew what he did wasn't right, but the contract was paid, he must kill him that night.
Darkness in every corner, Seems to fall down on us. As if radiating it's mystery, Giving all a sense of mistrust. I hear one lives under the bed, One in the in the wardrobe as well.
You sneaky little thing. I very nearly missed you... It's not surprising, you're upside down on the floor. Oh wait... I'm the one that's upside down. But you're still on the floor.
Walking along this hallway, The white paint won't hide it from me. I know that it's all white, But that doesn't mean I can't see. I see the men in their chairs rocking, Bald women holding their hair.
Perfection. Something that is often deemed impossible by the everyday man, yet here I was. Warm sunshine bouncing off the gleaming pavement, as people pass by.